I'll Have The Usual
by SierraSkye17
Summary: As Castiel grows desperate to help pay for his college tuition, he decides to work at the local coffee shop. Everything seems perfectly normal, if not boring, until an incredibly attractive mystery man walks in and makes one simple request: "I'll have the usual." Coffeeshop AU Destiel/Sabriel
1. I'll Have The Usual

**Author's Note:** Alright, guys, well this fic was intended to be a oneshot, but after a lot of demand on Tumblr, it has become a multichapter fic! It's kind of big on Tumblr and AO3 so I thought I'd also post it here. Enjoy!

* * *

Okay so _maybe _choosing to work at a coffee shop wasn't the best idea for a guy who loved coffee as much as Castiel. It had made sense to apply for the job considering his love for the rich, warm drink, but now he was beginning to think it was really just a way for him to torture himself. The enticing aroma filled the little shop, silently begging him to just keep one cup of coffee for himself. But, as his boss, Gabe, had emphasized, "the coffee's for the customers, buddy, anything you drink is coming out of _your_ paycheck."

Castiel didn't have much money so he couldn't afford to just pick up a pot of the liquid heaven and gulp it down. No matter how tempting it may be, it was his first day and getting caught breaking the rules that quickly would certainly be bad.

He stood leaning up against the counter, his eyes scanning the empty room in hopes that someone would finally walk in. His shift had begun at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, and he had been left to aimlessly pace behind the counter for the past hour. _Well, this is going to be so much fun, _Cas thought with a snort.

A small _ding _suddenly broke the silence, indicating that someone had walked in. Cas jumped a little, quickly straightening up and running his hands over the front of his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles. He was supposed to look presentable after all.

When Cas glanced up to see who had just saved him from his boredom, he let out a surprised gasp. It was a good thing he had tried to change his zombie-like appearance. The guy who had walked in was _hot._

Alright, so Castiel wasn't one to openly stare at someone or ogle them. In fact, the few friends he had always teased him for being shy, unaware of the fact that he was nervous around women because he had a feeling that he wasn't completely straight.

The man was a few inches taller than Cas with short, golden brown hair and piercing green eyes. He had broad shoulders and the confident stride of someone who was used to being acknowledged for his appearance. As Castiel was unashamedly doing right now.

He approached the counter, his emerald eyes glancing around the room before coming to rest on the thin, anxious-looking boy watching him. His lips turned up into a crooked smirk, his demeanor resembling that of a predator stalking it's defenseless prey.

Castiel swallowed nervously, averting his gaze away from the male model sauntering his way over to take his order. As the man continued to focus his attention solely on him, he began to wonder when the room had gotten to be so unbearably hot.

"Hey there… Castiel," the man began, his deep, gravelly voice sending excited shivers up Cas's spine as he read his name tag, "I'll have the usual."

Cas blinked. "I'm sorry, I don't know-"

"Oh, that's right," he chuckled, "you're new. I'll just take a venti Americano, please. You know, the good stuff."

Castiel laughed weakly, finally chancing a glance at the other man. At this proximity, he could make out the array of freckles dotting his nose and the soft skin of his cheeks below each of his eyes. He had the biggest damn grin on his face, and when their eyes met, he fucking _winked _at him. _Oh shit._

"Oh yeah," he replied, his voice becoming embarrassingly high pitched, "the Americano is a classic. It's my favorite because it keeps the coffee's rich flavor. The milk or cream added to the other drinks always masks the flavor."

The man tilted his head to the side and rested his hands on the counter. "Wow, they need more guys like you working here. You seem like you know your coffee, damn."

Cas felt his cheeks redden. He felt the sudden urge to throw himself across the counter and kiss the hell out of the guy, twisting his fingers in the short hairs at the back of his head and running his tongue across the soft flesh of his lower lip. He smiled and nodded before quickly turning on his heels, anxious to start brewing the green-eyed man's drink to distract himself.

The heavenly scent of brewing coffee filled the air, effectively drawing Castiel's attention away from the temptation leaning up against the counter only a few feet away. He breathed in the intoxicating aroma, pushing all of his crazy fantasies to the back of his mind.

A couple minutes later, the little red light on the machine began flashing. Cas inhaled once more before opening his eyes and pouring the dark liquid into a cup. He turned back to face his waiting customer, blue eyes meeting expectant emerald eyes. The man grinned and straightened up.

"Smells good," he called, watching Cas make his way over with his drink.

"Mhm," Cas mumbled in agreement, setting the warm cup on the counter and entering the order into the cash register. He purposely avoided looking at the brunette, knowing full well that one more glance would just add fuel to his surprisingly creative imagination.

"$5.30," Castiel announced, reaching out to grab the money from the other man's grasp. As he gripped the bills, his fingers brushed against the brunette's calloused fingers. His eyes widened, flinching and pulling the money away from the man's grip as if he had been shocked.

They locked eyes for a split second before looking away. Cas quickly gathered the man's change and set it down on the counter, worried about what would happen if their skin accidentally touched again.

"Have a nice-"

"Hold up," the brunette interrupted, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small card, "if you ever need a lawyer, you know who to call. Or if you just ever want someone to talk to. Here."

He laid the card down on the counter and flashed Cas another dazzling grin. "Bye, Cas," he purred, dropping all of the change into the Tip jar before turning and strutting out the door.

Castiel's jaw dropped, warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach and spreading throughout his body. He had given him a nickname. _Cas_. When he finally regained the ability to move, he picked up the card and skimmed over the information.

"Winchester & Winchester Ltd. Dean Winchester." A phone number and address were also neatly displayed at the bottom of the card.

"Dean," Cas muttered, liking the way the name sounded as it passed across his lips. An image of he and Dean sitting down at one of the tables in the shop, talking animatedly and drinking two perfectly prepared Americanos flashed before his eyes. He could just imagine the way Dean's lips would look as they pressed to the rim of his cup, the warm liquid gliding down his throat…

"Hey, buddy," Gabe trilled, his excited voice pulling Cas out of his trance, "looks like you met one of our regulars!"

Castiel just nodded his head, turning his head away in an attempt to hide the pink flush on his cheeks.

"Oh geez," the shorter man sighed, rolling his eyes, "you're already in love with the guy, I can tell. That always seems to happen to my newbies."

Cas's head jerked up, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. "Was it really that obvious?" he asked softly, chancing a glance at his boss.

"It's okay," Gabe chuckled, patting him on the back, "he was the one hitting on you. Besides, you should be proud."

He leaned in close, ignoring the confused expression on Castiel's face as he whispered in his ear, "you're the only one who's managed to get his card and an invitation."


	2. Just A Shirt

**Author's Note:** Castiel's attempts to woo Dean seem to fall a little flat...

* * *

_He's out of your league, he's out of your league, _Castiel's mind chanted, the same sentence playing on a loop in his head. It was the only thing he could think of to convince himself that it was true.

It had been three days since Dean had first walked into the coffee shop with his bright green eyes, sinfully thick lips, and mischevious smirk. And every day since that first meeting, he had been fairly standoffish, surprising Cas considering the way he had flirted with him when they first met. He had still been nice, that's for sure, but it was really just standard customer behavior. No intense stares, no winks, no flirtatious grins- _nothing._

The whole thing was making Castiel incredibly nervous, and Gabe's comments certainly didn't make him feel any better.

"A guy like him?" he'd chuckled, "He probably just found some smoking hot super model to date."

Cas had flinched, shielding his face to keep his boss from seeing how much his words had stung. Although he was probably right, it still hurt to think of some tall, gorgeous blonde tucked against Dean's side, her stupid lips pressed to his and her dainty hands cupping his face. The likelihood of such a thing made him sick.

But today was going to be different. He didn't understand Dean's change of heart, but he had taken the time to give him his card, which seemed to be a pretty big deal according to Gabe. Had he done something wrong? Or had Dean just realized that an awkward, gangly college sophomore wasn't good enough for him?

The time was coming for Dean to come in and pick up his Americano, and the only thing Castiel could think about was what he would say to him. Gabe had suggested that he try flirting with him when he came in, advice that had seemed ridiculous at first but was beginning to make sense the more he thought about it. As crazy as it might sound, maybe Dean felt that he wasn't interested. He hadn't really made an attempt to express his attraction, his anxiety keeping him from exuding any confidence or desire. Dean, on the other hand, appeared to be more confident than anyone Castiel had ever encountered.

Suddenly, the sharp _ding_ of the bell hanging above the front door interrupted his thoughts. This would be the fourth time he'd seen Dean, but it still felt as if it were the first. It was hard to get over just how stunningly handsome the man was, dressed in his intimidating jet black suit with his short golden brown hair styled just the right way. And there was his smile. That fucking lop-sided grin that sent excited shivers down his spine.

"Hey, Cas," he called, striding over and setting his new leather briefcase down before casually propping himself against the counter, "I'll have the usual."

All of Castiel's brilliant plans to woo Dean now seemed impossible as he came face to face with the man in question. The slope of his nose, the glint in his emerald eyes, the little freckle right below his left eye. Every detail was overwhelming, leaving him almost breathless as he soaked it all in.  
"You got it," he replied weakly, his plan to appear confident falling flat. It had sounded so much easier in his head.

He stood patiently in front of the coffee machine, finding it difficult to remain calm as he felt Dean's gaze boring into the back of his head. The silence in the coffee shop felt ominous, as if the universe was just waiting for him to slip up and make a mistake.

The red light began flashing, the delicious smell of fresh brewed coffee offering him a little comfort. _He could do this, he could show Dean just how much he wanted him._

He poured the rich, dark liquid into one of the venti cups and turned to bring Dean his drink. As he turned, he couldn't help but notice that the man seemed to have been staring at his ass while his back was turned, quickly averting his gaze to avoid being caught redhanded. He swallowed, feeling a sudden flood of nervous energy at the thought of the brunette checking him out.

His skin felt as if it were on fire, tendrils of warmth creeping up his spine and spreading across his face in what he assumed to be an unattractive flush. He began to step forward, time seeming to stand still as it watched his every move. And if time really did witness what happened next than it was one cruel son of a bitch.

Somewhere between the moment he had lifted his foot and the moment it touched the floor, the ground must have shifted beneath him. He can only assume that there had been a slippery spot on the floor that he had failed to notice, and he sure as hell wished he had. His body tumbled over, leaving him lying flat on the ground with a coffee-saturated shirt and a throbbing pain in the back of his skull.

The world seemed to be spinning around him, his chest burning from the steaming coffee seeping through his clothes. Everything hurt, and the only thing he could think of was the fact that Dean must be laughing his ass off right now.

Then, it happened. The next 15 minutes of his life would play repeatedly in his head for the next two weeks.

Although his vision was slightly blurred from the force of the fall, he could make out someone's worried gaze peering down at him. It took him a few seconds to realize that the concerned man was none other than Dean.

"Oh my God, Cas," he cried, reaching down and grabbing a hold of his arms to help pull him up, "are you okay, man?"

Castiel blinked, still too delirious to react to the way Dean allowed him to lean all of his weight against his sturdy figure. He was, however, completely aware of the comforting warmth his body provided and the way his arm was wrapped securely around his waist.

"Yeah," he slurred, "jus' tripped."

Dean chuckled, the deep, hearty sound raising goosebumps on his skin. He could feel the resulting vibrations where their sides touched, his firm muscles pressed against Castiel's softer skin.

"I can see that," he laughed, dragging Cas along beside him, "let's get you a new shirt. You can just have this one, and I'll run home and grab another one before heading off to work."

Castiel's eyes widened, almost losing his footing again. "Dean, you don't have to-"

"No," he interjected, tightening his hold on Cas's waist as they approached the bathroom, "it's not a big deal. My house is only a few minutes away, I'll be fine. Besides, the only person that could fire me is my brother and he wouldn't dare."

He was going to be wearing Dean's shirt. _Dean's shirt._

The bathroom was empty when they walked in, something Cas found to be both relieving and terrifying at the same time. Being alone with a shirtless Dean, even if only for a minute or two, made his heart pound excitedly in his chest.

The brunette carefully propped him against the wall of one of the stalls, giving him a playful squeeze before pulling his arm away. He took a couple steps back, shrugging off his suit jacket and slinging it over the nearest stall door. His hand then moved to the front of his shirt, fingers slowly undoing each button, exposing more and more of his toned, golden chest.

The entire time, Castiel sat silently watching each movement. To any outside observer, it would look as if Dean were stripping for him. The thought was making him embarassingly hard, his hands quickly moving to try and cover up the tent forming at the front of his pants. He couldn't help it. The graceful way Dean's fingers undid each button made him wonder what it would feel like to have them wrapped around his- _dear God, he needed to stop._

Dean finally reached the last button, Castiel practically drooling as he continued to watch him undress. He carefully pulled each arm out of its sleeve, his abdominal muscles shifting as he lifted his arms. Cas licked his lips, the man's impeccable, exposed body meeting all of his expectations. He had only dreamed of having Dean's bare, toned chest inches away, close enough to reach out and touch.

The half-naked man now held the discarded shirt in his arms, his emerald eyes meeting those of the entranced boy leaning against the stall wall. When their gazes locked, the sexy son of a bitch had the nerve to smile in that mischevious, predatory way that caused Castiel's head to spin.

Without even asking for permission first, he moved his hands down to the bottom of Cas's ruined shirt. As he began to lift it, he continued to stare intently into his eyes. Castiel felt his breatch catch in his throat, the warmth of Dean's breath brushing against his lips leaving him completely speechless. Their noses were only mere centimeters apart, nearly brushing as Dean leaned closer to get a better grip on the edge of his shirt.

Everything else around them seemed to disappear, not nearly as important as the couple of inches that lie between their bodies. Castiel's world had become Dean, from the deep exhales tickling his skin to the brush of fingertips against the sensitive skin of his sides to the glinting green irises being gradually eclipsed by dilating pupils. _Dean, Dean, Dean._

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Dean was leaning back to pull the shirt over his head, quickly taking a step back to pull the coffee-stained shirt on. Cas hadn't moved an inch, his naked back pressed against the cool metal wall as he watched the brunette yank his buttondown shirt down and hold it out in his direction.

"Left arm first," Dean rasped, his eyes lingering on the trail of ebony hair leading towards the waistband of Cas's pants. The younger man did as he was told, eagerly obeying each of Dean's commands. He could feel the way the brunnette's eyes skimmed over every inch of his exposed chest, taking his time to carefully do each button, lingering on the bottom one right above the crotch of his pants. If the way he continued to check him out as he dressed him wasn't hot enough, the way his fingers occasionally brushed against his skin was the icing on the cake.

Once finished, he pulled away, turning his back to Castiel as he threw on his suit jacket. Cas felt frozen in place, incredibly and shamefully horny as he kept his focus on the peaks of Dean's shoulder blades visible through the thin fabric of his ruined shirt. And it only got worse the moment he remembered who's shirt he was now wearing.

"Alright, well," Dean sighed, turning back to face Cas, "I'm gonna go talk to that weird boss of your's and tell him what happened. I'll pay for that coffee, and I sure as hell won't let him fire you."

The conviction in his voice made Castiel want to jump him right here and now, forgetting every ounce of fear from earlier. He managed to nod his head in response, still unable to open his damn mouth and speak.

Dean then did the unthinkable. He leaned in, pressing his lips to the tender skin of his temple. His lips were warm and deliciously soft, Castiel's eyes fluttering closed as they came into contact with his skin. The moment was very brief, their absence leaving Cas feeling hollow inside. He knew those fucking lips would feel like perfection.

Flashing one more of his cocky smirks, Dean gave him one final look before leaving the room. Castiel wasn't sure how long he stayed in that position, watching the door as if he expected Dean to return. If it weren't for Gabe coming in to retrieve him a few minutes later, a truimphant grin on his face, he probably would've just spent the night there in the bathroom.

He would've spent the night in _Dean's shirt._


	3. Save It For A Rainy Day

**Author's Note:** The one where it rains and Dean is still a mystery

* * *

The day Castiel finally gets that phone call he has secretly been waiting for is the kind of rainy day that tempts you to do absolutely nothing. It's the kind of blissfully lazy day that beckons you to curl up in front of the television and watch movies, with a warm blanket draped over your legs and a small bowl of delicious, buttery popcorn seated in your lap. Cas absolutely loved rainy days like this, from the sound of droplets hitting his window to the gentle swaying of the tree branches below. And, to top things off, it was a Thursday, the day he didn't have to go into work. There wasn't a single thing that could keep him from just staying in his dorm room and spend all day watching science fiction movies, his guilty pleasure.

But all of his plans changed the moment his phone rang, the sudden sound of "I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons practically giving him a heart attack. _Dean._ No, he hadn't assigned that ringtone to him for any particular reason, never.

He still was struggling to accept the fact Dean had his number in the first place. It had been a positively surreal moment, one he would've thought to be a figment of his imagination if not for the fact he'd pinched himself and felt a very real zip of pain travel up his arm.

It happened three days ago, a little over a week since Castiel had started his job at the little coffee shop. Dean had just been getting ready to leave, coffee in hand, when he suddenly froze.

"Wait," he cried, reaching into his pocket and pulling out one of his business cards and a pen, "before I leave…"

He set the card down on the counter and held out the pen in Cas's direction, staring at him with those piercing emerald eyes and that damn smirk on his face.

"I know this is going to seem a little forward," he muttered, his voice shaking a little as if he were actually nervous, "but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me your number?"

Castiel's jaw dropped. _What?_

"You know, in case you're not working, and I need you to come fix my drink since some guy fucked it up," Dean finished quickly, his face beginning to flush red.

Dean was getting flustered over him? Cas felt as if he were going to faint, the thought of the other man being able to call him making him much too anxious. What would he save his number under? Castiel? Cas? Or just "that guy from the coffee shop"?

He chuckled weakly and reached for the pen, relishing in the brief contact with Dean's calloused fingers. Quickly, he scribbled down his cell phone number, thanking God that his shaky fingers didn't keep him from writing. The entire time, he could feel the other man watching him, his mischievous smile and his curious stare.

"Here you go," Cas replied weakly, holding out the card with the most convincingly calm facial expression he could muster.

"Thanks," he chuckled softly, taking the piece of paper and slipping it back into his pocket, "I'll see you then, Cas."

Dean's eyes scanned over Castiel one more time, lingering on his face, before he turned and left. Cas couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't _breathe_. That was the moment he'd pinched himself, ignoring the way Gabe rolled his eyes as he passed by.

And now it was finally happening. _The p_hone call.

Castiel stared down at the phone as if it were a venomous snake preparing to strike. If he could make it through this phone call without vomiting, he deserved a medal or something.

Hesitantly, he picked up the offending object and slid his finger across the screen to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, Cas," Dean's deep, husky voice answered, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No!" Cas cried all too quickly, cheeks burning with embarrassment when he realized just how he must've sounded, "um no. I'm just sitting around my dorm room. Listening to the rain."

Dean chuckled softly, sending an excited shiver up Castiel's spine. It was pathetic, really, how just a laugh could make his knees weak.

"You're one of those guys who likes listening to storms," Dean replied, an almost affectionate tone to his voice, "I'm actually not that surprised. Well, I hate to keep you from enjoying mother nature alone in your room _but_ it just so happens I'm at the cafe right now, ready to head to the bathroom so I can pour this sad excuse for an Americano down the toilet."

Cas smiled, imagining Dean standing over the toilet as he muttered insults about the bastard who had served him sludge instead of coffee.

"Of course," he laughed weakly, running his hands nervously through his ruffled hair, "I am the only guy working there that knows how to make a decent cup of coffee after all. Do you want me to come down and make you something that's actually edible?"

"Well," Dean drawled, "if you wouldn't mind. You seem pretty busy."

"Oh yes, _very _busy," he replied sarcastically, his smile growing wider with each word that escaped the other man's mouth, "but I think I can spare a few minutes to come whip you up a real Americano."

"Well, it looks like I'm in luck! I'm _so_ sorry for interrupting your busy day, but I'm sure I'll figure out some way to make it up to you. I'll see you in a few," he trilled before finishing softly, "bye, Cas."

And then just like that it was over. His first phone conversation with Dean Winchester. The only phone conversation capable of killing him and he had actually survived. Oh yeah, he deserved that medal alright.

The next few minutes left Castiel's dorm room looking like it had been hit by an atom bomb. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the room, falling back to earth after being caught up in the chaotic tornado that was an anxious Cas. Jeans covered his floor, shirts were draped over his desk, a single shoe sat lonely on top of his television set. It was the pure definition of the word "mess".

In the middle of it all, Castiel stood staring at his recently clothed figure in the mirror. He had chosen his favorite pair of jeans, snug in just the right places but certainly not unbearably tight. He had decided to pair it with a simple blue-gray cotton shirt, the one he wore the most considering it was comfortable, loose-fitting, and matched the color of his eyes (or at least that's what a girl in his class had once told him). He had also decided to leave his hair the way it was, recalling a comment he'd heard one of the football players make about girls loving the "just crawled out of bed" look. Of course, Dean wasn't a girl…

He was going to be late if he kept analyzing every little detail like this! Dean was probably sitting alone, staring anxiously at the door and thinking of all of the different places he'd rather be. He probably was wondering why he had agreed to meet up with a waste of time like Cas.

Castiel threw open the door and quickly stepped through, slamming it shut in his haste to leave. This was his chance, maybe his _only _chance to show Dean Winchester how he really felt, and there was no way he was going to let himself fuck up a golden opportunity like that.

Three flights of stairs and two blocks of sidewalk was all that separated he and Dean. And Cas had never run faster in his entire life.

There weren't many people Castiel would run through the rain for. He loved this weather, sure, but he certainly wasn't much of a runner. By the time he reached the coffee shop, dripping wet and slick with both rain and sweat, he felt as if he might just pass out from the exertion. Running that distance at a dead sprint wasn't an easy task.

He stood in the doorway, scanning the room for Dean's well-dressed figure. The coffee shop was usually quiet at this time of day, but on a day like today, it looked like a ghost town. Not many people enjoyed going out in the rain.

Sitting quietly at a table near the back of the shop was the reason for all of Castiel's anxiety. He was staring out the nearest window, a small smile on his face. From this angle, Cas was given a fantastic view of the man's profile. He could make out the strong line of his jaw, the individual hairs of his impossibly long eyelashes, the little crinkles at the corner of his upturned lips. It was as if his face had been sculpted out of marble, the perfect visage of a living, breathing Greek god. And it was the face of the man who was waiting for him.

"Hey," Cas called hesitantly, still too afraid to leave his spot in the doorway. Dean immediately turned to look in the direction of his voice, his eyes wide as if he had been caught redhanded. The moment their eyes met, the bastard grinned like an excited child on Christmas morning.

"Hey," he called back, letting his eyes skim over Castiel's soaking wet form, "still enjoying this weather?"

Cas chuckled softly and nodded his head. He wanted to give some kind of clever response, but he couldn't seem to find his voice.

"Why don't you come over here and sit down," he insisted, gesturing for him to come closer, "you look pretty tired."

Castiel swallowed nervously. Dean was right, he should probably sit down before his legs gave out. He shuffled over to where the other man sat, careful to avert his gaze as he took a seat.

Why had he agreed to this? How was he supposed to have a normal conversation with Dean if he couldn't even bring himself to look at him?

"So," Dean sighed, "while I was waiting, I decided that I didn't need another drink after all. I was kind of exaggerating when I said I wanted to dump it down the toilet."

Cas glanced up, finally meeting the other man's piercing gaze. If only he didn't always stare at him as if he were the most captivating thing in the world.

"Damn," Cas chuckled softly, "I ran all the way here for nothing."

"Nothing? You think that having the chance to talk to me is nothing?" Dean cried, his tone mockingly hurt.

"No! I didn't mean that at all!"

"Calm down, man," Dean soothed, "I was just kidding. I'm happy you're here."

Another fucking smile. He was in such deep shit.

"I thought we could just sit here and talk, seeing as the only things I know about you are that you know how to brew a damn good Americano and you live around here. If that's alright with you?"

"Yeah, sure," Castiel mumbled, his cheeks flushing with embarassment. This was a dream, it had to be.

"So, Cas," Dean began, leaning forward in his seat and lessening the space between them, "what are you studying in college? I mean, I assume you go to the one a couple blocks away, right?"

Cas nodded, focusing intently on his clasped hands sitting on the table as opposed to the emerald eyes peering at him from across the table.

"I'm studying to become a computer engineer," he mumbled quickly. Every time he told someone the field he was going into, they would immediately assume he was a nerd._ A freak._

Dean's eyes widened. "Really? Wow, Cas the boy genuis."

Of course. How could he have ever believed that Dean would react any differently?

"No, all joking aside, that's really impressive."

Castiel's head shot up and his jaw dropped. That wasn't disgust or scorn he detected in the other man's voice. It was awe, something entirely new and surprising.

"I guess it's considered a difficult field. I've just always been good with numbers. Math's my thing," he replied softly, glancing over at Dean's hands only inches away from his own.

"God, Cas, of course it's a hard field! I always hated math. I'm more of a… well, law is more my thing."

"I figured," Castiel chuckled, "being a lawyer and everything. Did you always know that was what you wanted to be?"

Dean flinched, his lips twisting into a frown. Pain flashed in his eyes, as if Cas had just slapped him across the face. It was an awful sight, one he never wanted to experience again.

"It's a long story," Dean growled, his voice so quiet that Cas nearly missed his reply. An awkward silence filled the room, the only sound being the whirring of the coffee machines behind the counter.

He had fucked up. In typical Castiel fashion, he had been given the perfect opportunity and had royally screwed it up. There had to be something he could do, something he could say, that would fix everything. He opened his mouth, ready to apologize when Dean gruffly interrupted.

"I should probably get to work. Sammy's probably wondering what's taking me so long," he mumbled, standing up and grabbing his suit jacket from where it was draped across the back of his chair. He quickly threw it on, a frown still visible on his troubled face.

"Dean-"

"But first, I'm gonna walk you home," he interrupted, moving to stand next to Castiel's seat.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," Dean declared, smiling weakly down at him.

Cas slowly stood and pushed in his chair, surprised at how close the other man was standing. The soft brush of Dean's fingers across the small of his back as he got to his feet gave him some comfort, the gesture almost seeming to convey a sense of forgiveness.

Suddenly, Dean reached over and intertwined their fingers, his larger hand engulfing Castiel's. His eyes widened, flicking between the other man's hopeful gaze to their clasped hands. His instincts screamed at him to pull away, to end this right now before Dean realized just how strange and unappealing he was.

But when Dean grinned at him like that, there was no way he could possibly say "no". He could at least pretend like everything was going to be alright.

The walk back to Castiel's dorm was surprisingly quiet, an odd occurrence considering the way Dean seemed to love casual conversation. Occasionally, he would ask him about college life and the student body. They were simple questions, ranging from "What are the dorms like?" to "Who's your favorite professor?" to "What are the parties like?"

Cas politely answered each question, pleased with the way he hid his wildly beating heart. However, the last question was definitely challenging to answer.

Should he tell him the truth? That he never attended parties because his social skills were for shit? Eventually, he settled on telling him an almost truth. He claimed they were wild events where alcohol filled everyone's cups and people swayed drunkenly to the beat of loud, monotonous dance music.

Dean had chuckled and replied that that sounded about right. Score one for Cas!

When they finally reached the door to Castiel's dorm, the rainfall had become more relentless, striking the sidewalk and converging into multiple puddles. Dean carefully led him along, laughing every time he accidentally stepped in a puddle and pulled his foot out while muttering a string of angry curses. No, it wasn't funny.

Then, much too soon, there they stood. The doorway, the place Cas had come to associate with intimate moments between two lovers after the countless movies he had watched. And he was standing in that very spot with the most incredible person he'd ever encountered. The one person he'd be willing to share such a romantic moment with.

Dean moved so that only a few inches separated he and Castiel. He still held Cas's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he stepped closer.

"I had fun," he whispered, "more fun than I've had in a while."

"Me too," Cas muttered, mustering up all of his confidence and meeting Dean's hooded stare.

Castiel wished there was some way he could preserve the next couple seconds, when things were still so easy and happy.

Dean leaned in, raising his one hand to cradle Cas's face. He swiped his thumb softly across the other boy's cheek, savoring in the way he leaned into his touch. Gently, he pressed a chaste kiss to Castiel's lips and pulled away.

It was brief, a fleeting touch that managed to leave Cas's lips tingling as if he were pulling away from a more heated kiss. He wanted more, more of that endless warmth and anxious anticipation. His first kiss was the shortest one he would ever experience, but it would always be his favorite.

"Goodbye, Cas," Dean whispered, squeezing his hand once more before letting go and turning to leave.

Castiel watched him go, umbrella held high and a slight jump in his step. He seemed so happy and yet Cas had no idea how anyone could be any more ecstatic than him.

He had been cold before, the chill of the rain that clung to his drenched clothes seeping into his skin. But now he felt as if he were standing on the surface of the Sun, heat spreading to every inch of his body.

That is, except for his one hand, left dangling at his side without Dean's pleasantly tender grasp.


	4. A Ray of Sunshine

**Author's Note:** "I can't help it. He's the fucking Sun trapped in a human body."

* * *

"Oh my God..."

By this point, roughly three weeks after Castiel had started his job at the little coffee shop, he had seen several different sides of his boss. He had seen him angry, tired, happy- hell, he'd even seen the guy hungover! But he had never seen him like this.

Gabe had been cleaning one of the tables, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a Kelly Clarkson song, when the little bell above the door rang.

There really aren't even words to describe the expression on his face. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, looking almost as if he had just seen a ghost. It was the strangest combination of fear and admiration Castiel had ever seen.

And it was directed at the second most attractive man Cas had ever encountered, Dean being the first of course.

He was tall, easily the tallest person in the room, with broad shoulders and incredibly long legs. He was dressed in an impressive-looking black suit, most likely tailored specifically for him, with a maroon tie hanging between the lapels of his jacket. His golden brown hair just reached his shoulders, a couple strands tucked neatly behind his ears and away from his face. As he walked in, his hazel eyes slowly swept the room before stopping on the gaping man staring blatantly up at him, a towel still clutched in his shaking hands.

"Long time no see, Sammy," Gabe squeaked, making his way over to the safety of the counter.

_Sammy?_

The man laughed, filling the room with a rich, contagious sound that beckoned you to laugh along with it. It was as if a ray of sunlight had entered the shop, bringing all of the light and joy from the outside world to those who were stuck inside and unable to enjoy it.

He approached the counter, arms swinging by his sides with every step, briefcase in hand. Why did that name sound so familiar?

"Oh c'mon, Gabe," he chuckled, "you know how hard it is for me to drag myself out of bed in the morning. If it makes you feel any better, I've decided I'm gonna try to get my lazy ass up earlier so I can come here before heading to work."

Gabe leaned against the counter, gently pushing Castiel out of the way. He stared at the giant of a man, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

"I'll believe it when I see it. What changed your mind?"

That's when he finally acknowledged Cas's presence, turning away from Gabe's curious stare.

"Are you Castiel?" He asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Um," Cas muttered, feeling like an insignificant little ant as the large man gazed down at him expectantly, "yeah. Yeah I am."

The man grinned and turned back to Gabe. "It's because of him. He's the reason."

"What?" Gabe cried, glancing over at Castiel's dumbstruck face, "him? I don't under-"

"Dean told me he makes a mean cup of Joe," the man interrupted, gesturing in Cas's direction.

Dean? This man had heard something about him from _Dean_? Maybe he worked at the same law firm as… _holy shit_.

"Wait, are you Sam Winchester?" Castiel gasped, seeing the tall man in a whole new light.

"That's me," he laughed, completely oblivious of the hungry look in Gabe's eyes as he watched him, "I was hoping Dean at least had the decency to mention me."

"I'm so sorry. He never really told me what you looked like so I wasn't sure if, you know, you were tall or if you had brown hair or maybe blonde hair or-"

"Hey, it's okay," Sam interjected, "I understand. Besides, Gabe is the one that's in trouble, not you."

"Me?" His boss cried, a mischievous smirk on his face, "what did I do?"

"No, it's not what you did. It's what you _didn't_ do."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"You didn't tell him that Dean's brother was such a stud," Sam quipped, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his face.

"I didn't wanna lie to the poor guy," Gabe replied, practically purring as he spoke.

The entire time, Castiel watched their conversation with a knowing smile on his face. He was many things, but he certainly wasn't stupid. The two men had a history, that's for sure, and they weren't trying to hide it. The flirtatious smiles, the overly enthusiastic laughter, the friendly banter- it all added up. And if that wasn't evidence enough, the way Gabe stared at Sam made everything crystal clear.

It was the same longing stare Cas reserved only for Dean. The look of a man plagued with a desperate need, an insatiable desire to touch and be touched. The look of a man fueled by a possibly ridiculous sense of hope, an optimistic nature that surfaced every time the other man was involved. And it was the look of a man who had fallen, thrown right into the dangerous and merciless game of love.

"No, you'd be lying if you said that Dean was the more attractive one. I mean, we all know that's me," Sam insisted, puffing out his chest and standing straighter.

Gabe threw his head back and laughed, slapping his hands down on the counter. Speaking of overly enthusiastic laughs…

"What do you think, Castiel?"

The sound of Sam's excited voice pulled Cas away from his thoughts. He could only stare back at the man, completely caught off guard by the question.

"Never mind, you're probably biased," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.

Cas felt like he was going to vomit. Had Dean told Sam that they had become closer to each other over the past few weeks? Or that they had once swapped shirts? _Or that they had kissed?_

"I wouldn't expect you to be honest. I know how Dean can be," the tall man continued, "he would never let one of his friends take my side."

Friends. Sam had just called him Dean's friend. Not boyfriend, just _friend_.

"Right," Cas chuckled nervously, glancing down at the money in the other man's hand, "he would be pretty pissed if he found out."

"Typical Dean, being all controlling. He always is that way with his friends. Of course, the poor guy hasn't had an actual friend in ages. Not since…"

Sam stopped, his lips twisting into a frustrated scowl. Castiel hoped that he would finish, his curiosity piqued by the younger Winchester's words. He couldn't imagine a man like Dean not having friends. He was intelligent, attractive, clever, friendly- what could possibly make people dislike him?

"Anyway," Sam sighed, turning to look at Gabe, "do you think I can trust this guy enough to make me a latte?"

"Hells yeah," Gabe cried, reaching over to pat Cas on the back, "Cassie here is practically a professional!"

Castiel blushed, shifting away from Gabe's touch and staring down at the counter. "I wouldn't say that…"

"You're too modest! Go get to work on that latte, alright? Venti!"

Before Gabe could even finish speaking, Cas had turned and moved towards the coffee machine. He couldn't wait to be home, away from all of this confusion. Was his relationship with Dean all in his head? Why didn't Dean have any friends? What had Sam meant when he said "not since" and never finished his train of thought?

He wanted to scream, to throw the coffee machine on to the ground and smash it to pieces. There was so much pent up anger trapped in his chest, begging to get out. He and Dean were a lie. His love was unrequited, and his feelings might as well be a fucking joke.

When he finished preparing Sam's latte, throwing the ingredients together in his haste to see the man that kept constantly reminding him of Dean leave. He seemed like a nice guy, but he didn't know what his words had just done, the pain they had caused.

"Here you go," he muttered, pushing the drink across the counter in the towering figure's direction, "I hope you enjoy it."

"I'm sure I will," Sam replied, flashing him an appreciative smile, "thanks, Castiel. See you later, Gabe."

"Yeah, I bet you'll see me later! Try next month! Or next year!" Gabe called, watching Sam leave with a heartbroken look on his face.

The second the tall man's enchanting laughter no longer filled the little shop and the door shut behind him, Gabe let out a long, relieved sigh.

"Damn, thank God that's-"

"What the hell was that?" Cas cried, taking a step closer to his boss, "You never told me you knew Sam Winchester!"

"Eh, it didn't seem that important. I know you only have eyes for Dean-o."

"Yeah, I guess," Castiel mumbled, flushing with embarrassment. It was the truth after all.

"Sam's way more attractive, but whatever. To each his own, right?" Gabe explained, speaking as if he were telling Cas a universally accepted fact instead of a personal opinion.

"Oh yeah, and that, too. Is there something going on between…?"

"Who knows," Gabe sighed, his face falling almost immediately, "we don't talk as much as we used to. For a while, he kept showing up to the shop regularly, and I thought, 'hey, maybe this fine piece of ass is actually into me.' But, as you can see, I was wrong."

Cas couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He could only imagine what it would feel like if Dean just stopped showing up for his morning coffee. Yesterday, he had told Cas that he wouldn't be there the next day because he had a meeting in the morning, and it had just about killed him. The thought of a day without Dean made him nauseous.

"I'm sorry," he replied softly, placing a comforting hand on the shorter man's shoulder, "that must've been terrible."

Gabe shrugged, a defeated look on his face. "I'm over it. If it happens, it happens. And if it doesn't, well…"

It hurt Cas to even look at the other man's face. He only saw pain there, excruciating and crippling pain. Gabe was lying, and Castiel wasn't sure who he was really trying to convince.

"But enough of that," Gabe sighed, "what's going on with you and Dean? And don't you dare say nothing."

"I honestly don't know," Cas answered softly, glimpsing the other man's look of pity out of the corner of his eye, "I thought we were just friends up until a few days ago. He... he, um, he kissed me."

Gabe blinked, his face completely devoid of emotion. Cas opened his mouth to speak again, ready to say that he was just kidding to get a reaction out of him, but then the bastard burst out laughing.

He bent over, his arms wrapped around his stomach as he let out a stream loud, bellowing laughs that echoed off of the walls. Cas crossed his arms, lips pursing into a little pout as he watched the hysterical man.

"What's so funny?" he growled, growing angrier and angrier by the second.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Gabe gasped, glancing up at him with tears streaking down his face,"it's just- oh my God- I should've known!"

"Should've known what?" Castiel cried, quickly losing his patience.

"That _you _would be the- shit, hah- the one he finally kissed!"

Cas felt the ground drop out from underneath him. Did he just say finally? As in has-never-done-it-before-so-this-is-the-first-time finally?

Gabe straightened up, brushing the excess tears away as he stood. When he saw Castiel's expression of pure shock, he immediately quieted and took a step closer to him.

"Damn, I didn't mean that in a bad way," he insisted, "that's a good thing, I promise!"

Cas nodded, the word _finally_ repeating itself over and over again in his mind.

"You know, truth is, I'm just jealous," Gabe confessed, biting his lip anxiously, "I've always wanted something like that. Someone to come and sweep me off my feet, take me away from here. Someone that'll make me happy..."

He turned to glance out the window, the sunlight illuminating the residual moisture from his tears. And that was the moment Cas realized that there was another side to his boss that he had never seen: he had never seen him sad.

"Shit, Cas," he whispered, "I can't help it. He's the fucking Sun trapped in a human body."

And as strange as it may sound, Castiel understood.


	5. Baby Steps

**Author's Note:** The importance of baby steps

* * *

Castiel had pictured many things when he imagined Dean's workplace. I mean, based on the suits he had seen the Winchester brothers wear, he could only assume that they were pretty successful. So when Dean invited him to visit him at work (that's right, he fucking _invited him_), he had an idea of what he should expect. But he had underestimated, oh had he underestimated. He had pictured an impressive building, but he hadn't been prepared for anything like this.

It stood ten stories tall, a truly imposing work of modern architecture. The entire structure seemed to be completely composed of windows, reflecting the sunlight directly into his eyes. "Winchester & Winchester Ltd." was emblazoned in gold lettering above the front door, making the building even more formidable if at all possible.

As he continued to stare up at the structure, a completely awestruck expression on his face, he decided that Dean could've at least warned him that he worked at a place like _this. _A simple "my building might make you shit your pants" would've sufficed.

Cautiously, he approached the door, wetting his rapidly drying lips. This had been such a mistake, probably the biggest mistake he'd made in a while. Well, besides kissing Dean. He was beginning to think that had been the worst decision he'd made in his entire life.

He slowly opened the door, peering inside. His jaw was practically touching the floor by now, having just caught sight of the beautiful interior. Only one thought crossed his mind: _What am I doing here?_

The lobby was absolutely extraordinary, with its marble floors and ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its walls lined with paintings and mahogany front desk sitting in the center of it all. Castiel felt completely out of place.

"Ah, there you are!"

Cas jumped, turning with wide eyes to face the looming figure of none other than Sam Winchester.

"Dean told me you were coming," he trilled, a huge grin on his face as he gazed down at the starstruck boy before him, "He told me to just wait down here so I could show you where his office is."

Castiel smiled weakly, trying to appear calm. He didn't understand, he shouldn't be this nervous. He and Dean were just friends after all. It wasn't like he had anything to be concerned about.

"Thanks," he replied, staring down at his feet, "I probably would've gotten lost."

Sam chuckled, that same warm sound that seemed to fill the room with a contagiously euphoric sense of excitement. Dean's laugh elicited a different kind of feeling inside of Cas, a desire to feel it against his skin, to feel the reassuring warmth of his breath.

"You wouldn't be the first," Sam chuckled, "this place can be like a maze to someone who's never been here before. C'mon, I'll bring you to Dean."

The younger Winchester gestured for him to follow, making his way over to the elevator as he continued to speak. "It's nice to see that Dean has a friend now."

Castiel quickly caught up to him, struggling to keep up with his impossible stride. The guy's legs were so fucking long!

"Yeah," he mumbled, still upset to hear that he and Dean were only friends, "It is nice."

The two stood in front of the elevator, an awkward silence lingering between them. Sam obviously was expecting a more elaborate response from him, but what was he supposed to say? That he didn't really think it was "nice" because he wanted something more than friendship? Oh yeah, that'd go over _real _well.

Thankfully, the elevator door slid open and Cas quickly climbed on. Sam followed, shooting him a confused look as he joined him. Castiel smiled up at him, hoping that it would be enough to convince the younger Winchester that nothing strange was going on.

The silence persisted for a few more minutes before Sam finally spoke up. "Hey, Cas?"

It was the first time he had ever heard the man use the shortened version of his name. He could only hope that it was a good thing.

"Yeah?" he replied hesitantly, glancing up into Sam's inquisitive eyes.

"You actually like Dean, right? Like you… you wouldn't just stop talking to him?"

Whoa. Okay, he wasn't expecting that at all.

"Of course I like Dean," Castiel insisted, "he's a very likable person. Why do you ask?"

Sam bit his lip, averting his gaze. It was odd seeing the tall man so nervous and on edge. Like Dean, he seemed to possess an incredible amount of confidence, as if he were incapable of being flustered.

"Well," he sighed, "it's kind of a long story. Let's just say that there was someone in the past who… who decided that Dean wasn't good enough for them. But it's really not my story to tell. I just don't want the same thing to happen again."

Cas watched him as he explained, his face contorted by pain and frustration. He couldn't bring himself to ask for a better explanation when it brought the man so much sorrow.

"I understand," Cas assured him gently. It was clear that whatever had happened to Dean had shaken up his younger brother, and he wanted nothing more than to see that naturally bright and cheerful nature return.

"No, Cas," Sam whispered, "you don't understand. But be happy you don't."

* * *

Sam and Castiel walked from the elevator to Dean's office in complete silence. Cas had wanted to say something to break the tension, but the other man's words had left him utterly speechless.

"Here you go," Sam sighed, stopping in front of a door labeled "Dean Winchester". He mumbled a quick "have fun" before turning and striding away with his head down. For once, Cas was actually happy to see the younger Winchester leave. A sad Sam Winchester was a depressing sight.

"Shit, shit, shit," Castiel muttered under his breath. Should he knock? Fuck, he should probably just leave and escape from his impending-

The door suddenly opened, revealing the suit-clad figure of Dean Winchester. He had discarded his usual jacket, now only wearing a blue and white striped button-down shirt.

"Hey, Cas," Dean greeted cheerily, giving him the once over as he leaned against the door frame, "Why don't you come on in?"

Cas nodded, and hurriedly stepped over the threshold. The man's office was fairly large, a few sets of bookshelves pushed up against the wall behind a mahogany desk similar to the one in the lobby. The wall on the opposite side of the room was actually a large window, looking out over the shorter neighboring buildings and the city street down below. Everything about the space, from the leather-bound books lining the bookshelves to the blue marble globe sitting on the desk, was arranged in a neat and orderly fashion.

"Wow," Cas gasped, taking several steps before stopping behind a black leather chair placed in front of Dean's desk, "you sure keep this place neat!"

Dean came up behind him, leaning in close so that his nose just barely brushed the fine hairs tucked behind his ear. Cas could feel his warm breath tickling his skin. _Just breathe_, Castiel reminded himself.

"I can be a little bit of a clean freak at times," he purred, reaching around Cas and pulling the chair out for him to take a seat, "At least when it comes to my office."

Castiel swallowed nervously, trying to ignore the soft brush of the other man's fingertips down the length of his arms as he sat. Did Dean have any idea what his touch did to him?

Dean carefully pushed the chair back into place, and circled around to his own seat, sitting heavily with a little _huff_. He tilted his head to the side, fixing Cas with his curious, emerald gaze.

"So," he began, picking a pen out of the coffee mug on his desk and twirling it between his fingers, "you like the place?"

Castiel's jaw dropped. Was he serious?

"Like?" he cried, "Are you kidding me? This place is incredible?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head, the pen in his hand still spinning. Cas couldn't take his eyes off of the damn thing, the way Dean's nimble fingers looked as they easily maneuvered it in little circles. "I guess it is pretty impressive, huh?"

"Just a little, yeah," Cas scoffed, his lips turning up into a small smile, "I almost shit my pants when I saw the place."

"Pfft, sounds about right," Dean laughed, finally ceasing his hand gestures and setting the pen back in its rightful place, "You're not the first person to say that."

"I can imagine," he agreed, grateful that his nerves weren't interfering at the moment. The last thing he needed to do was make a fool of himself.

"Yeah," the other man drawled, leaning forward a little in his seat. He stared straight into Castiel's eyes, sending an excited shiver down his spine.

Cas knew this was the moment he was supposed to say something. Maybe make some comment about the office building or maybe ask Dean whether he liked his job. And he wanted to, he really did, but things just never seem to go his way.

"Was I your first kiss?"

Well, fuck. The joys of anxiety-induced word vomit.

Dean blinked once, twice, a third time. His face didn't convey any emotion, leaving Cas completely clueless as to what he was thinking. His eyes flicked down to the lamp on his desk, lingering on the shining bulb. Several seconds of uncomfortable silence followed before he eventually spoke.

"Who told you?" he whispered in the softest voice Castiel had ever heard the man use.

Should he tell him the truth? It couldn't hurt, could it? Gabe certainly hadn't meant any harm in telling him.

"Gabe," Cas replied in an equally soft tone. There was no going back now.

Dean remained silent, intently focused on the lamp fixture. He didn't move a muscle, didn't even appear to blink. It was as if he had become the intricate marble statue Castiel had always thought him to be.

He had done it. He had finally fucking done it. With one simple question, he had crushed whatever chance he might have ever had with the amazing Dean Winchester.

"I'm sorry, I think I should probably go-"

"Cas-"

Cas was already standing, nearly tripping as he attempted to walk on his wobbling legs. _Don't cry, please just don't fucking cry._

_Thud._

Dean had managed to rise up from his seat and approach him without his knowledge, effectively sneaking up on him. And now he was using his body to press Castiel's shaky figure up against the door.

"Stop," Dean growled in Cas's ear, his hands wrapped firmly around his wrists as he held him in place, "right now."

Castiel knew where this was going- or at least where he hoped it would go. He was already aroused by the other man's muscular figure pressed against his back, but the very sound of his gravelly voice managed to make him even harder. He could feel a moan rising up his throat, begging to be released.

"But Dean-"

"Shhh…" he soothed, gently using his grip on the boy's wrists to turn him around, "You have nothing to worry about. I wasn't upset."

Castiel only stared at him, a quivering, horny mess. Opening his mouth to speak was no longer an option.

"Gabe was right, that was my first kiss. And you know what? I'm happy it was. I couldn't have dreamt up a better one. I wouldn't have wanted it to be with anyone else."

_Son of a bitch._

Before Dean could even react, Cas cut him off with the hungry press of his lips. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. He felt like a parched man lost in the desert after finding an oasis, a man stranded at sea after spotting a nearby shore, a desperate beggar after discovering a bag filled with riches- he felt _whole._

It only took a few seconds for Dean to begin eagerly kissing him back, slipping Castiel's lower lip between his own lips and giving it a playful tug. He gasped, pleasantly surprised by the bold move, and used the new angle to softly bite Dean's upper lip. The other man cried out excitedly and then chuckled into Cas's mouth, using his hold on his wrists to pull him over to his desk.

The entire time, their lips remained connected, tongues frantically battling for dominance as they moved. It was a kiss fueled by all of the frenzied lust both men had been painstakingly concealing, a kiss born of a desperate desire and an aching longing. Dean easily lifted Castiel onto his desk, slipping his hands down to his ass and gripping it firmly as he set him down.

Cas finally let out the moan he had been holding in, leaning his head back and revealing the smooth skin of his neck to Dean's wandering lips. He closed his eyes, sinking into the breathtaking sensation of Dean's soft lips pressed to his skin, trailing across the sharp lines of his collarbone down to the tender patch of skin right above the neckline of his shirt.

"Dean…" Castiel sighed, reaching down to fist his hands in the short, golden brown strands of the other man's hair. Dean hummed appreciatively against his skin and gave his ass one more squeeze before bringing his hands back to Cas's thighs. He quickly slipped his hands between his legs, pushing his thighs farther apart and stepping forward.

He reluctantly pulled away from Cas, laughing softly at the younger man's whine of protest. His hands moved to rest on Castiel's chest, slowly pushing him down onto the desk with a mischievous smirk on his face, the cold wooden surface pressing against his back. Dean's lust-blown pupils and hooded gaze filled Castiel's vision, pulling him under, reeling him in, drowning him in their emerald green pools. He could feel himself sinking, giving in, falling, a vulnerable yet willing victim of every push, every pull, every touch.

"Oh," he gasped, lifting his legs to wrap around Dean's waist and arching his back into the delicious friction of the other man's slowly gyrating hips. He was hard, so fucking hard, and the fact that Dean was just as aroused pushed him closer and closer to that blissful edge, so close, so tantalizingly close. The kiss was rapidly becoming more passionate, dirtier, hungrier. He could feel himself being ravaged, pulled apart piece by piece.

Dean's grinding hips increased their speed, a primal growl slipping past his lips along with one particularly rough thrust. The pressure, it was too much, too overpowering. He felt like he was going to explode.

Without thinking, Castiel shoved Dean away, struggling to push himself up into a sitting position. He couldn't, he just _couldn't_, not this. Dean looked horrified and postively wrecked, his disheveled hair and swollen lips seeming out of place when coupled with the evident pain in his eyes.

"Cas…"

"I-I can't," he whimpered, bowing his head, "this- it's too soon."

Dean's face softened, concern immediately taking the place of frustration and hurt. He cautiously moved his hand up to cup Castiel's face, gently rubbing his thumb along the soft skin of his cheek.

Castiel's brain wouldn't stop, a wasted mess, always coming back to the moment he had let his instincts take over and practically tackled Dean. It was as if he had lost control of his body, had lost his sanity. A move like that was so unlike him- this was only the second time he'd ever kissed anyone! And they were moving along much too fast.

"I-I'm so sorry," he whispered, a weak sob slipping out on the last word, "I don't even know what this is between us a-and I'm new to this and I-I don't know what I'm doing-"

Cas's eyes widened, staring down at the soft press of Dean's finger to his lips.

"It's okay," Dean soothed, "You have nothing to be sorry about. I wasn't thinking and I finally had you and I just- it's my fault. We'll take things slowly from now on, alright?"

He sounded so sincere and understanding, his voice a warm blanket shielding him from the cold reality of his fears.

"Baby steps?" He asked with a little chuckle, removing his finger. That flirtatious smirk was back, reminding Castiel of the first day he had spoken to the man. He had fantasized about an intimate moment like this, and now he was shying away from it.

Cas let a out a long, shaky sigh and lifted his head to meet Dean's gaze. His eyes held so much kindness, so much hope, as if he weren't actually some pathetic waste of time that refused to put out. It was like Cas was something special, something to be treasured and cared for.

"Yeah," he whispered, leaning into Dean's touch, "baby steps."


	6. The Big Surprise

**Author's Note:** The one where Dean is a romantic and Cas learns to love surprises

* * *

This had to be some sort of joke.

Castiel stared gaping at the door, watching it shut behind Dean's retreating figure. Had he heard him right? Had he just asked Cas to meet him at the-

"The park?" Gabe cried incredulously, a hint of humor in his voice.

Cas continued to watch the door, thinking that maybe Dean would walk back through and tell him he had just been kidding. The park was an incredibly romantic place in Castiel's eyes, a place where couples went to walk around holding hands and show the public just how happy they were together. Did Dean really think they were ready for that? Hell, Cas wasn't even sure whether they were "dating" or not!

"Wow, Cassie, I never pegged Dean as a romantic," Gabe chuckled, lifting a steaming latte up from off the counter, "next thing I know, you'll be telling me about your movie dates and how Dean-o has a cande-lit dinner planned."

Castiel turned sharply, shooting Gabe an angry scowl. _Bastard_.

"I'm sure I'll be hearing about you and Sam doing shit like that first," Cas growled, staring back at his boss with an icy glare and triumphant smirk.

Gabe rolled his eyes and turned to look out at the few customers present, most of which were sitting quietly by themselves with a laptop open in front of them. And Sam Winchester just so happened to be one of those lonely customers.

"Yeah, yeah, you just keep telling yourself that," Gabe muttered, strutting away with Sam's latte in hand.

Everything about Gabe's demeanor screamed_I'm so happy, I could explode_, from the little bounce in his step to the smile that had been plastered on his face since the moment Cas had come into work that morning. Of course, Castiel wasn't surprised. As promised, Sam had been showing up at the coffee shop shortly before Dean for the past few days, something that seemed to have come as a surprise to Gabe.

As Castiel watched, propped up against the counter, Sam gratefully accepted his drink from Gabe, smiling up at him as he wrapped his fingers around the brown styrofoam cup. He chuckled something resembling "this better be as good as the last one", eliciting an overzealous cackle from Gabe. Cas couldn't make out the shorter man's response, but he could only imagine what it was based on the huge grin brightening Sam's face.

He really wished that there was some way he could convince Gabe to explain his history with Sam. The whole thing was so mysterious, and although Cas wasn't nosy, the somber way his boss talked about it certainly piqued his interest. He only knew that Sam had once been a regular customer at the coffee shop, the reason behind his disappearance remaining a closely-guarded secret._Curiosity killed the cat_, his mind quickly interjected.

And then he remembered what was really important: Dean had just invited him on a walk through the park. That was practically like asking him out on a date, right?

His shift ended at four o'clock today, roughly nine hours from now. _Nine fucking hours of nothing._

He would have to run home, find something to wear, fix his hair… he was so screwed.

It had been almost a week since that day in Dean's office, the moment when he had admitted how truly insecure he was about physical contact. His experience with intimacy was basically non-existent, considering he had just shared his first kiss that month, and thinking about… sex made him incredibly uncomfortable.

The whole thing was so confusing. He wanted nothing more than to know what it would feel like to fall apart beneath Dean's experienced touch, to feel their bodies pressed together, bare skin against bare skin. In his head, sex with Dean sounded nothing short of incredible, but he knew the truth. He wouldn't be able to go through with it, at least not now.

"Hey!" Gabe suddenly called from across the room, pulling Castiel from his frustrating thoughts, "Come here, Cassie! Sam just told me the funniest joke!"

Cas blinked, finding his way back to reality. He supposed the two lovebirds would be a good enough distraction for now.

* * *

"It's beautiful, huh?"

Castiel swallowed nervously, glancing down at he and Dean's clasped hands. They were walking through the park, _holding hands._

"Oh yeah," Cas agreed, looking back up again at their surroundings. They were walking along a gravel path, surrounded by lush green grass and tall elm trees, their branches providing shade for the happy couples seated beneath them. The Sun's rays struck the brilliant blue surface of the small pond off to the left, illuminating the sleek feathers of the ducks casually peddling across it. Wooden benches were arranged around the pond, ready to be filled by people fishing, as well as alongside the path, a welcome break for runners. Everyone there seemed so happy, so carefree, so _peaceful_. He certainly wasn't lying- the park looked absolutely breathtaking on a gorgeous day like today.

"But you're just trying to change the subject again," Castiel continued, nudging Dean playfully with his elbow as they walked, "What's in that bag?"

A large tote bag hung from Dean's right arm, just out of Cas's reach. The top was sealed, keeping all of it's contents a secret, hidden away from Castiel's prying eyes.

"I told you, Cas," Dean sighed, glancing over at him with a smirk, "It's a surprise."

"Yeah, well, I don't like surprises."

"I've noticed," the brunet chuckled, giving Cas's hand a gentle squeeze, "but this is a _good_ surprise. I promise you'll like it, okay?"

Castiel sighed, turning away from Dean to look out at a boy excitedly showing off a wriggling fish to his father. He should be happy, shouldn't he? It was a beautiful day, and he was on a date with Dean Winchester. What more could he possibly ask for?

"Okay," he replied softly, "I guess you're right. I really have no idea what's in there."

"That's the point! I can't wait to see your face when I open this bad boy up."

Cas rolled his eyes, laughing softly under his breath. He loved it when Dean smiled at him like that, the little creases at the corners of his lips, the affectionate glint in his eyes. The gesture held more compassion than he was used to.

"You seem pretty sure of yourself," he chuckled, stepping around a particularly large rock, "What if your little 'surprise' isn't as great as you think it is?"

"Of course it is," Dean scoffed, "when have I ever done something that isn't great?"

"Oh, for the love of God," Castiel cried, lightly jabbing the other man's stomach with his elbow.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"

"Sure you are," Cas drawled, flashing Dean a flirtatious grin. He was still trying to get the hang of this whole "flirtatious banter" the other man seemed to love.

"I swear," Dean insisted, "I'm not like that. People always think I'm this cocky son of a bitch, but I promise I'm not."

"I know, Dean. But I can see where it'd be hard to tell for someone who doesn't know you as well as I do."

"Yeah, I guess," the brunet sighed, glancing up into the drooping branches of a tree as they passed beneath it. A robin sat perched among the leaves, it's tiny head tilting to the side, watching them.

"Anyway," Cas began uncertainly, "I know you can't tell me what's in the bag. But can you at least tell me where we're going?"

Dean chuckled, a bright and joyful sound that perfectly fit the paradise-like scene. He would never get tired of hearing that laugh.

"Nope," Dean trilled, "I'm afraid I can't. That's also part of the 'big surprise'."

"You're such an ass," Cas mumbled, unable to stay serious and keep a smile off of his face. He secretly loved the fact Dean was going to all of this trouble for him. Over the past couple days, they had spent roughly an hour sitting around talking when Dean came in to pick up his daily coffee, discussing the simplest things.

One day, they spent thirty minutes talking about their favorite colors. Another day, they had a heated debate over which pizza toppings were the best and which ones shouldn't even be considered a topping at all. Yesterday, they came to an agreement about what name would be the best for a cat and which would be the best for a dog. Their favorite season of the year, favorite movie genre, favorite day of the week- really simple things.

But for now, the two walked in comfortable silence, soaking in the beauty of their surroundings. Dean seemed to have a destination in mind, choosing certain pathways and beginning to walk faster the farther they went. Castiel had been nervous at first, but his anxiety was quickly receding, replaced with excitement as the other man guided them along, a huge grin on his face.

Suddenly, Dean stopped. Cas almost tripped, caught off guard by the brunet's unexpected halt.

"Here we go," he muttered, gently tugging Cas in the direction of a group of large bushes, "this is what I'm talkin' about."

Castiel glanced over at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. _What the hell?_

"Um, Dean?" Cas asked in a concerned tone, "What are you doing?"

"You'll see."

Castiel rolled his eyes and snorted. Typical Dean.

He pulled him along, looking from side to side as they approached one of the spaces between two bushes. Cas couldn't see anything past the damn things except for a bright stream of sunlight.

"Just follow me right through here, okay?" Dean insisted, gesturing to the space between the two bushes.

"Dean…"

"Trust me, please," he begged, fixing Cas with a pleading stare. It was the only time Castiel had ever seen Dean look vulnerable, maybe even a little scared. He actually seemed nervous, worried that he would scare Cas away or disappoint him. Whatever he had planned must be pretty special to him.

"Alright," Castiel sighed, ducking his head as he followed Dean through the bushes, shoving the short, leafy branches out of the way. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and his throat felt incredibly dry, the various images of what Dean might have in mind flashing before his eyes.

Cas pushed back one final branch and his jaw dropped. Nothing his imagination had created had prepared him for this.

It was a breathtaking sight, something straight from a movie. His eyes swept over the small field before them, surrounded by trees and filled with tiny purple flowers, their blossoms swaying softly in the breeze. In the middle of it all sat a short stump, caught in the spotlight of a single ray of sunshine, a few stray pink blossoms sprouting up from the ground around it. There wasn't a single person in sight, the entire space left open for them to enjoy.

"Oh my God," Castiel whispered, "Dean-"

"Wait, it gets better!" Dean cried, dragging Cas in the direction of the stump, practically jogging as he pulled him along. He was so eager, expressing an endearing child-like innocence and enthusiasm that made Castiel's heart ache. It was the happiest he had ever seen Dean.

"Sit there for a second," he insisted, pointing at the stump. He raised their joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Castiel's knuckles before reluctantly letting go and allowing him to take a seat.

Dean lifted the bag, holding it up and peeking around to shoot Cas a cocky little smirk. Castiel laughed, watching the other man swing his arm with a flourish, slowly unclasping the top of the bag, his gaze fixed on him as he did so. The bastard was having too much fun with this.

He then reached into the tote and pulled out… _oh my God._

It was a blanket, decorated in a red plaid pattern. He raised it quickly above his head, allowing it to unfold and the edges to spread out before he gently laid it in the grass. Next, he pulled out two sandwiches, each individually wrapped and, based on the smears of mayonnaise and mustard on the wrapping, handmade. He held one up in each hand, turning them around like a salesperson trying to sell their merchandise.

"Easily the best sandwiches in this entire city," he trilled, holding one out towards Castiel.

Cas had lost the ability to think and speak the moment Dean had pulled the worn-looking blanket from the bag. This was… he had no words. He was the nerd that was never asked out on dates, and he certainly was never asked to share a romantic picnic at the park. He grabbed the sandwich, holding back tears as he examined the neatly stacked turkey and cheese within. He had taken the time to make him a sandwich, a _fucking sandwich_.

"You…" Castiel managed to choke out, "you did all of this? For me?"

Dean chuckled, reaching out and pulling Cas up onto his feet. He wrapped his hands around each of Castiel's wrists, bringing him over to take a seat on the soft, red fabric. He moved so that Cas could rest against his side, securing his arm around his waist.

"Of course I did," Dean replied, sighing contentedly when Castiel leaned back against his chest, resting his chin on the top of his head, the ebony strands of Cas's hair tickling his skin, "I would do anything for you."

* * *

"You were right about the sandwiches, " Castiel chuckled, tilting his head back a little to look up into Dean's emerald gaze.

"Hell yeah I was," he replied smugly, reaching up to cup Cas's face in the large palm of his hand. Castiel's eyes fluttered shut, savoring the comforting warmth of Dean's touch.

"Smug bastard," Cas purred, shifting even closer to him, resting his hand on his thigh. He felt light, so light that he may just float away in the breeze, swept away into the vast sky above.

"You know it," Dean whispered, leaning down as he spoke. His eyes slowly skimmed over Cas's face, stopping on his slightly parted lips. He knew what was coming, could see the anticipation in Dean's eyes, the longing. Castiel wanted it, wanted to feel the pressure of the lips he missed, the touch he craved.

Carefully, Dean pressed his lips to Cas's, their noses lighting brushing together as he closed the gap. They were so soft, so warm, so _inviting_. Cas sighed into Dean's parted lips, burying his fingers in the short strands of hair at the base of the brunet's head. He pulled him closer, he _needed _him to be closer.

Dean's hand moved down, snaking underneath the thin fabric of Cas's shirt. He trailed his fingertips across the smooth skin of his belly, tendrils of warmth spreading across Castiel's chest. Each touch was a gentle caress, born of true compassion as opposed to uncontrollable lust. Castiel had loved the way Dean had pressed him into his office desk, but there was something about this kiss that seemed to make it better. If he really wanted to, Dean could push him back onto the blanket and have his way with him. But he didn't. For Castiel's sake.

"Dean," Cas gasped, pulling quickly away as Dean's fingers brushed dangerously close to the waistband of his boxers, "we can't do this _here._"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," Dean sighed, reluctantly pulling back his hand. He chuckled softly and leaned forward, giving Castiel a quick peck on the lips.

Both kisses seemed so innocent, strange for a man as experienced and confident as Dean. A man like him should be kissing Castiel senseless, leaving him lightheaded and his lips numb, almost as he had done that day in the office. But then Cas thought about it, he _really _thought about it, and realized that he was the first person Dean had actually kissed. The _only _person he had ever kissed.

Castiel leaned back against Dean's chest, breathing out a deep sigh. He closed his eyes, enjoying the rise and fall of the other man's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

There were many things he wanted out of life. Success, confidence, wealth- the kind of things most people wanted. But he was starting to think that there was one thing he wanted more than anything else, one thing he needed if he ever wanted to be happy.

And it was pressed up against his back, softly humming the tune to "Livin' On A Prayer". _Dean._


	7. I Can't Forget

**Author's Note:** Love is a quiet "I can't forget this."

* * *

_Look at those assholes_, Gabe thought with a smirk as he watched Dean and Castiel from across the room.

They were the stereotypical happy couple, all smiling faces and longing stares. Dean would occasionally reach out and gently rest his hand on top of Cas's, causing the younger man's cheeks to flush in embarrassment. He would then chuckle softly, squeezing Castiel's hand before pulling away, emerald eyes full of pure adoration.

If it weren't for the fact Gabe liked Cas, he probably wouldn't be able to watch he and Dean together. He envied their relationship so much, to the point where it physically hurt. They were just another one of the many couples that visited the coffee shop, but there was something different about them. Even if they didn't know it- and he felt like they probably didn't- they were in love. Any idiot with eyes could see that.

But him? Oh no, he wasn't that lucky. He wasn't being asked on romantic dates or being kissed like something to be treasured or being stared at like he was the only thing that mattered in this world. No one loved him.

And it made sense, honestly. He was short, much too short for most men. His eyes were brown, but not the beautiful chocolate brown that people seemed to favor. His lips weren't thick and kissable. He wasn't very muscular, only subtly toned from the few times he managed to get to the gym or go for a run. He was stubborn, sarcastic, overbearing, obnoxious- the most unappealing qualities he could think of.

So no, he didn't have anyone to call his own. And as he turned to face Sam's seated figure near the front of the shop, he remembered why he hadn't been actively searching for someone, recalling the one time he had almost had a relationship. The worst thing that had ever happened to him.

* * *

"That was delicious," Sam moaned, draping his arm lazily across Gabe's shoulders.

"God yeah," Gabe agreed, shifting closer to Sam as they walked along, "that burger was so fucking good."

They were walking along the sidewalk, heading home after eating dinner at the popular restaurant, Rapheal's. It was Sam's favorite and was known for its steaks, even though everything else there was absolutely delicious as well. To Gabe's delight, the atmosphere wasn't that fancy, but the white tablecloths and intricate candle centerpieces made it feel romantic enough.

"It looked like it," Sam replied, pulling his car keys out of his pocket, "and that chicken on my salad? Damn."

Gabe chuckled weakly, struggling to hide his anxiety. They hadn't discussed where they were going after dinner, and now here they were, heading towards Sam's car with no destination in mind.

"Everything there is perfect," Gabe insisted, spotting Sam's car only a few feet away, "it's a fact."

Sam nodded his head enthusiastically, leading them towards his car, a jet black BMW sedan parked along the street. Gabe felt sick, staring at his frightened reflection in the shining metal, illuminated by a nearby streetlight.

"Well, here we are," Sam sighed, removing his arm from around Gabe's shoulder and casually leaning against the driver's side door. His eyes raked over Gabe's short figure, coming to rest on his face.

"Yep," Gabe replied, popping the "p" at the end. He glanced down, watching his feet as he nervously shifted his weight. He was too worried to look at Sam, to meet his pitying stare. He knew he was going to suggest dropping him off at his house, leaving him to sulk in his room for the rest of the night.

"So," Sam drawled, slowly running his fingers across the door handle, "I thought I could take you back home now."

Of course, just as he'd suspected. He was right yet again.

"And then I thought we could maybe hang out a little bit," Sam finished quickly, his lips turning up into a hesitant smile.

_Hold the fuck up_.

"Really?" Gabe croaked, eyes widening. Had Sam Winchester just invited himself over to his house?

"I mean, only if you want to," Sam replied softly, looking almost shy as he quickly averted his gaze, watching his fingers glide across the smooth metal of the door handle. It sounded more like a question than a command, as if he actually thought Gabe would turn his offer down.

"Sure!" Gabe cried, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice, "that sounds great!"

Sam smiled, that same wide grin that lit up his face, that brightened everything around him. Gabe could feel it's warmth in the pit of his chest, a beacon of hope in the midst of all of his self-loathing.

"Great," he trilled excitedly, stepping away from the door and grabbing a hold of Gabe's wrist, "let's go then!"

He pulled him along towards the passenger side door, yanking it open and gesturing for him to climb in. He looked like an ecstatic child, bouncing on his feet and slamming the door shut after Gabe crawled in, in a frenzied rush to leave.

The driver's side door flew open, revealing Sam's lanky figure, crouching down as he threw himself into his chair with a little _huff_. He glanced over at Gabe, beaming at him with a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes.

Gabe smiled back at him, his heart pounding in his chest, ready to burst right out of his chest. He then turned away, focusing intently on the road ahead, lined by buildings with flashy neon signs. He needed to calm down, to make sure he kept his cool. He was normally pretty smooth with the ladies, but Sam was different, he was the exception. The first man he had ever really had feelings for.

They rode in silence, Gabe staring out the window while Sam tapped out a random beat on the steering wheel. To him, it felt like a heavy silence, charged with the words both men were too hesitant to say. Normally, the shorter man was incredibly talkative, rambling about just anything if you let him. But something about Sam's excitement kept him from speaking, set him on edge.

He could see his apartment building off in the distance, a four story brick building tucked between another apartment complex and a small pawn shop. Not very far away sat the part of town where the upper middle class lived, a street filled with large, ornate homes with fenced yards and long driveways occupied by three or four luxury cars. Gabe's apartment building was intended for the average middle class citizen, the ones who just didn't have enough to move into the wealthier area a few blocks down. However, Gabe had the nicest and most spacious apartment in the entire building.

"Nice place," Sam remarked, carefully pulling into an empty spot along the street.

"I guess," Gabe sighed, reaching down to unbuckle his seat belt. He knew that Sam was fairly wealthy and lived not far away, where he wanted to live. He'd never seen the Winchesters' house, but he had a good idea of what it'd be like. And his shitty little apartment probably paled in comparison.

Sam climbed out of the car and ran around to his side of the car, eagerly opening his door for him. He swung his arm to the side, acting like a chauffeur dropping his passengers off. If it were anyone else, it would've seemed ridiculous, but it was Sam. And he made the gesture cute as hell.

He grinned back at Sam's looming figure and gave a quick nod of his head, shifting so that he could step out of the car. Except the sidewalk just so happened to be farther away then he'd anticipated.

Mr. Calm and Collected started to trip as he stepped out of the car, heading straight for the harsh black pavement below. Suddenly, he felt something grab his upper arm, tugging him to his feet.

He stared up in shock into Sam's concerned face, golden brown eyes meeting brilliant olive green and dark brown eyes. Gabe turned his head, looking down at Sam's iron grip on his arm. His hands were huge, wrapped securely around his bicep. He swallowed, pushing back thoughts of what those hands could do.

"Are you okay, man?" Sam asked, voice thick with worry.

"Yeah," Gabe insisted weakly, straightening up, "yeah, the road just decided to be a bitch and sink down a little lower."

Sam chuckled, removing his arm and patting Gabe affectionately on the back.

"That damn road," he growled theatrically, stepping onto the sidewalk and beckoning Gabe to do the same. He obeyed, quickly joining Sam.

"Now, let's get up upstairs," Sam announced, grabbing Gabe's hand without warning and dragging him along in the direction of his apartment building. He was practically running, pulling him along as if he weighed nothing.

The moment they set foot inside the building, Sam was yanking him up the stairs, taking two steps at a time in his haste. Gabe wanted to ask why he was in such a rush, why he was laughing. Was his apartment really that exciting? He didn't think so.

Four flights of stairs later, they stood in front of the door to Gabe's apartment. They both stood staring at it, breathing heavily and trying to catch their breath. Gabe quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, shoving it into the lock and twisting it. The door unlocked with a satisfying little click, opening just the slightest bit as Gabe gave it a gentle push.

His apartment really wasn't anything that extravagant. In front of them sat the living room, with its cream-colored walls and hardwood floor. A flat screen television was propped up on a low table in front of a black, L-shaped couch. A single painting of the morning sky hung on the wall behind the couch, his only painting, and a sliding door that led out to a small porch was on the side of the room directly across from where they currently stood.

Off to the left was the kitchen, a decently sized room with light gray linoleum floors, dark cabinets, and a sleek-looking silver refrigerator pushed up against the wall. A round table with four chairs sat in the middle of the room, decorated with a little potted plant as the centerpiece. It had a very homey feel, just as Gabe wanted it to have.

And finally, there was the bedroom. To the right, the door to his room was open just enough to get a glimpse of the dark red walls and large mattress, connected to a chestnut bed stand and covered by thick black and white sheets. _That's the room where all the magic happens_, Gabe thought with a smirk.

"So," he drawled, stepping through the threshold, "this is home. It's not really that great, but I guess it- _umph_!"

Gabe hadn't even heard Sam come up behind him, and he certainly hadn't expected to be flipped around and wrapped in a set of impressively strong arms. But here he was, with a hand buried in his hair and another pressed against the small of his back. A set of warm, soft lips were crushed against his own, catching the gasp that slipped from his mouth.

His brain short circuited, only able to think one thing: Sam was kissing him, he was _actually_ kissing him. And not in that hesitant or shy way that was generally associated with a first kiss. It was passionate and hungry, causing Gabe's head to spin.

It was the kiss he had always dreamed of sharing with Sam, the kiss that he had so desperately been waiting for. He eagerly fisted his hands in the thin, soft fabric of the taller man's red shirt, pulling him closer, their bodies now flush. He could feel the firm muscles of Sam's chest, the light stroking of his fingers as they carded through his hair, the pressure of his nimble fingers on his lower back.

Gabe eagerly licked at Sam's lips and stood on his toes, tilting his head to find just the right angle. He wanted to deepen the kiss, to feel the stroke of the taller man's tongue along the inside of his mouth, to taste him. Sam responded just as he had hoped, moaning softly and parting his lips, their tongues tangling in a frenzied battle for dominance.

God, he felt like he was on fire. Heat, delicious heat everywhere, sinking into his bones. He wanted more, he wanted to know what those lips would feel like against his neck, his chest, his belly, his inner thighs, down, down, covering every inch of his skin.

Suddenly, Sam pulled away, staring back at Gabe's flustered face with swollen lips and dilated pupils. He looked like he had just run a marathon, his chest heaving and his face red from exertion.

"Your bedroom," he growled, reaching down and wrapping his hands around Gabe's thighs. The shorter man gasped, watching Sam with wide eyes as he easily lifted him, moving his legs so that they wrapped tightly around his waist.

He slowly made his way towards Gabe's room, staring deeply into his eyes as he pushed open the door. There was so much desire in his hooded gaze, so much longing.

Carefully, he lowered Gabe onto the plush mattress, resting his head on a pillow to cushion his fall. He continued to watch him intently, climbing onto the bed and moving so that he straddled his thin hips. He reached for the hem of Gabe's shirt, licking his lips in anticipation as he began to pull it over the shorter man's head.

"Yes," Sam purred, throwing the shirt off to the side as his eyes raked over Gabe's exposed upper body. He ran his hands slowly up the shorter man's chest, teasing his nipples, humming his approval as Gabe arched his back and moaned.

He slowly leaned down, gently pressing his lips to the tender skin of Gabe's neck. His fucking lips were positively sinful, applying just the right pressure in just the right places. He trailed kisses down his chest, running his fingertips along his sides, sending shivers down his spine.

He made quick work of Gabe's pants, undoing the zipper and button before pulling them down his legs. They joined his shirt on the floor, carelessly tossed to the side. Sam's own clothing followed not long after, creating a small pile of discarded clothes on the floor beside the bed.

Gabe gazed in amazement at Sam's chest, the muscular planes of his abs and the trail of golden brown hair leading down to the waistband of his boxers. He wouldn't be exaggerating if he said his body was perfect, all 6'4" of him. A couple stray strands of hair hung down in front of his face, brushing against his nose, the strands he normally pushed out of the away now long forgotten.

Before he could even draw in another shaky breath, Sam was leaning back in, pressing his surprisingly hard erection against Gabe's. His hips began to move in slow, lazy circles, pushing him down into the mattress, so fucking strong. The combination of his lips and his gyrations was so overwhelming, causing Gabe's eyes to roll back in his head, a loud moan slipping past his lips.

"Sam," he gasped, his self control rapidly slipping away, the friction bringing him closer and closer to the edge, "_please_."

"I've got you," Sam growled against his lips, reluctantly leaning back, "where's the-"

"Top drawer," Gabe whimpered pitifully, pointing towards the bedside table, "fuck,_hurry_."

"Patience," Sam purred, reaching over and pulling the lube easily from the drawer. Gabe watched in rapt fascination as he squirted a decent amount into his hands, pulling down his boxers to reveal his erection.

"Oh," he whispered, eyes intently focused on Sam's hands, the way he stroked himself, precome dripping down over his fingers. His head was leaned back, whimpering in pleasure.  
Oh fuck, he better get on with it already before Gabe couldn't hold back anymore.

"_Please_, Sam-"

But that's all he managed to say, his mouth left gaping open, the words caught in his throat. Sam had slipped down his boxers and already had one finger inside of him, pushing in slowly. Gabe lost the ability to think, to speak, to do _anything_. Because the only thing that mattered right now was that Sam's fingers were so fucking long.

"Fuck," he whined, flicking his eyes down to Sam, on his knees with his finger buried inside of him. It felt so fucking good, and it was only one finger.

Sam pulled his finger out, curling it as he withdrew it, causing Gabe to cry out. He whispered a string of curses under his breath before adding another finger, plunging two fingers inside of his hole. Gabe felt like he was going to explode, clenching down on Sam's fingers as he carefully stretched him out, pushing in deep, deeper, knuckles deep. Stars began to dance before his eyes, flashing, blurring his vision. On his final stroke, Sam purposely brushed against his prostrate, growling out his approval as Gabe cried out his name.

Gabe thought it couldn't get better, nothing could top the pleasure flooding his brain. But he was wrong, horribly wrong.

Without warning, Sam was suddenly inside of him. Not his fucking fingers, though. The real deal. And damn was it the most incredible thing he had ever experienced.

He was plunging in, filling him, making him whole again. With every thrust, Gabe could feel himself being pieced back together again, the shards of a broken man finally being reunited. Pushing, pulling, pushing- creating a steady rhythm with his hips, starting slow and then going faster, faster, _so amazingly fast_. His lips were pressed firmly to his, pulling him even farther under, blinding him, shaking him to his very core.

"Sam, oh fuck, yes, _yes_," he mewled, tightening his thighs around the taller man's hips, pushing him in even deeper, "I'm gonna- shit, I'm so close, _please_!"

Sam removed his lips from Gabe's, leaning in and whispering softly in his ear in a positively wrecked voice, "Gabriel..."

And that was it. White flashed before his eyes, a dazzling flash of brilliant white. It was beautiful, so fucking incredible.

Sam thrust a couple more times before filling Gabe, his body shaking with pleasure. He cried out Gabe's name loudly, and then softly laid himself down on the shorter man's spent body.

He pressed a soft kiss to Gabe's temple, lingering for a few blissful seconds before pulling away. He carefully pulled himself out of Gabe and rolled over to lay comfortably against the shorter man's side, pulling him in against his heaving chest.

Gabe closed his eyes, basking in the comforting warmth of Sam's arms wrapped around his waist. He could live in this moment, could stay here for the rest of his life.

"You're incredible, Gabriel," Sam whispered against the back of his head, pulling him just a little closer.

That was the moment Gabe fell in love with Sam Winchester.

* * *

Gabe's eyes slowly cracked open, momentarily blinded by the sudden light flooding his vision. Where the hell was he? He remembered going to dinner with Sam, driving back to his house, running up the steps- _oh fuck._

"You're awake," a gravelly voice remarked softly from across the room.

"Yeah, shit," Gabe muttered, pulling his arms out from beneath the covers and stretching them above his head, "what time is it?"

"5 a.m.," Sam mumbled, already in the process of tugging his jeans over his hips. His shirt was on, the loose red fabric draping off of his incredibly muscular chest.

"Seriously?" Gabe slurred, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes, "What the fuck are you doing up already?"

Sam stopped, his fingers frozen on the button of his pants. He slowly lifted his head, meeting Gabe's inquisitive stare and anxiously biting his lip. He looked like he had just been punched in the chest. This couldn't be good.

"I…I have to go," he replied, his voice so quiet that Gabe almost missed it. He quickly averted his gaze once again, buttoning his pants and striding towards the bedside table. He refused to meet Gabe's troubled gaze.

"I'm sorry, what?" Gabe cried, desperately trying to make sense of what he had just heard. Had Sam just said that he was _leaving_? _Now_?

"I have to leave," he reiterated, picking up his keys. He was making his way towards the door, stepping over Gabe's discarded clothes still strewn across the floor. He was leaving, he was really fucking leaving.

"Wait!" Gabe yelled, sitting up in bed, ignoring the pain in his skull at the sudden movement, "You're actually leaving? I thought we could eat some breakfast or something. I mean, I make a pretty mean omelette. Or we could always go down to the coffee shop and-"

"No," Sam snapped, turning around and effectively cutting off Gabe's rambling, "I-I really do have to go. This-"

He pointed towards the bed, a pained expression on his face. Never before had Gabe seen him so hurt, so broken. It was frightening.

"This," he whispered, each word filled with pain, "it was a mistake. I don't know what I was thinking and I-I just…"

His lip was quivering, keeping him from finishing his sentence. Gabe couldn't breathe, all of the air seeming to leave his lungs, escaping the horrified shell of a man he had become. Sam was going to leave him. After everything that happened, he was just going to leave him here, alone.

"I was wrong," he mumbled, "about what I did last night. About us."

"No, no, Sam," Gabe whimpered, shoving the covers off of his body and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He quickly got to his feet, almost tripping as he tried to stand on his shaky legs.

"I'm so sorry," Sam cried, his voice strained. He was going to cry, Gabe could tell. The bastard deserved it, he deserved to sob himself to sleep for the rest of his life. He came over, showed Gabe the best night of his life, and then says that he was wrong? That he was _sorry_?

"Sam, please, you don't understand," Gabe whined, striding across the room, fighting back tears as he moved, "this was only our first date! We can a-always try again-"

"Gabriel," he moaned, taking a step back as if he were scared of what the shorter man might do. _Good_, Gabe thought sourly, _you should be scared. You should know what it's like to be as fucking scared as I am right now._

"Sam, I promise," he urged, becoming more and more desperate, "this could work between us. I-I'm scared, too, but I just know that this could work. Fuck, please don't leave me here, _please._"

Sam looked like Gabe had just slapped him across the face. He shouldn't feel sorry for the other man, he deserved to hurt. But, fuck, Gabe didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to hate him, even though it hurt so much. He had never experienced a more excruciating pain in his entire life.

"Listen to me," Sam whispered, a single tear slowly gliding down his cheek, "You have to forget this. Forget any of this ever happened."

Gabe whimpered, unable to open his mouth to respond. He was falling, falling down, down into the miserable side of himself that Sam had managed to actually chase away. He was no longer important, was nothing, worthless.

"But Sam-"

"Just forget," Sam begged, another tear spilling down his face. He shot him one more pleading and pitiful look and then turned away, throwing open the door and stepping through. The door slammed shut behind him, sending a tremor through Gabe's entire body.

Gabe stared at the door, silently hoping that he would step back through. That he would come back and confess that he was being stupid and irrational. That he would run in and wrap him in a comforting embrace. That he would just walk back through that door and be there, with him.

"I can't", he whispered, his quiet voice echoing off of the walls of his room, "I can't forget this."

And three years later, he still couldn't forget.


	8. Gabe Was Right

**Author's Note:** The one where Cas shows Dean just how special he thinks he is.

* * *

Castiel wasn't usually a violent person. He was level-headed, and he never found himself wanting to hurt another person. If he was going to get upset with anyone, it was going to be himself. But this? This was the exception.

"I was ri-ight, I was ri-ight!" Gabe cheered, skipping around behind the counter like a damn schoolgirl on the playground. He had been singing the same thing all morning, and Cas had just about had it.

"Would you shut up already?" Castiel growled, slamming a steaming cappuccino down on the counter, "I think I got it the hundredth time you said it."

"Probably but I really could care less because I was right," Gabe trilled, unfazed by the murderous glare Castiel was now shooting his way.

"Asshole," Cas muttered under his breath, picking the cappuccino back up before quickly walking away and handing it over to a tall, redheaded woman. Gabe had unfortunately followed him over, leaning against the counter with a smug smirk on his face.

"I am your boss, remember?" He reminded Castiel the moment the woman turned to leave.

"Yeah, I remember," Cas sighed, "but c'mon, man, would someone's boss actually spend all morning singing about how he was right about them sharing a candlelit dinner with their boyfriend?"

Gabe shrugged, trying to appear like he was the innocent one in this situation. Which he sure as hell wasn't.

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but I never said I was your typical boss, did I?"

Castiel rolled his eyes and turned away, reaching over and grabbing a rag to aimlessly scrub down the counter. He needed to do something to distract himself. From Gabe and especially from his "romantic dinner" later that night.

Yes, the smug bastard had been right after all. Before Dean had left, he had invited him over to dinner. At _his house_. A dinner that he,_Dean Winchester, _was going to prepare.

And now, Gabe wasn't going to let him live it down, a fact that didn't surprise Castiel in the least. Although he would never say anything, Cas had a pretty good idea of why his boss was taking it the way he was. It was simple- he was jealous.

Sam had continued to show up regularly, and Gabe seemed happy about it, of course, but there also seemed to be something bothering him. Whenever he didn't think anyone was looking, he would get this pained expression on his face as if he had just been rejected.

Castiel had been wanting to ask him about it all week, but what the hell was he supposed to say? He didn't even know what the guy's problem was, and the last thing he wanted to do was bring up some sensitive subject that ended their "friendship".

But that was besides the point. The dinner was what was really important right now, and he knew that there was no way he could mess it up.

To Castiel's relief, Gabe had walked away and was now with Sam, leaning against his table with a playful smirk on his face. The adoring glint in his boss's eyes when he gazed at Sam was painful to see, filled with such an unfulfilled longing and desire. The taller man looked back at him with affection, but it wasn't the same, wasn't as intense. And the worst part was that Gabe didn't seem to notice. _Or maybe_, Castiel thought sadly,_he just doesn't care_.

The more Cas thought about it, the more he wondered if he and Dean were the same way. Did he look completely enamored by Dean when he stared at him? And how did the other man look when he stared back? Cas had always thought their passion was equally as intense, but now he was beginning to doubt himself.

Castiel's mind was a cruel thing.

* * *

_It'll be fine, it'll be fine_, Cas struggled to convince himself, standing warily on the sidewalk in front of his dorm.

On any other night, the inky black sky and pinpoints of bright light would've captivated him, but not tonight. The darkness seemed to press in from every side, wrapping its ominous and foreboding tendrils around him, reeling him in and filling his head with negative thoughts.

Castiel folded his arms across his chest, glancing anxiously from side to side. No one at school knew he and Dean were dating- _Jesus Christ, we're actually dating_- and the other man would be there any minute to pick him up. Cas wanted to keep their relationship a secret, away from the prying eyes of his nosy friends and snarky classmates. He felt like he would be even more of an outcast if people found out he was dating a guy.

Suddenly, a silver BMW convertible turned the corner, heading straight for Castiel. He knew who it was immediately. _Dean._

The convertible came to a halt right in front of Cas, whose eyes were wide and whose legs almost gave out at the sight of the expensive-looking vehicle. The engine purred, causing Castiel to jump a little, the sound further heightening his anxiety.

The window rolled down, revealing Dean Winchester's excited, grinning face. His eyes raked over Cas, taking in his jeans, powder blue sweater vest, and white undershirt. Castiel had picked it out because it seemed appropriate to wear something somewhat fancy for dinner. And he always wore sweater vests when he wanted to look classy.

"Damn, Cas," Dean purred, whistling his approval, "you should wear that more often!"

Castiel blushed, purposely staring down at his feet in an attempt to ignore Dean's penetrating stare. There was such a hungry look in the brunet's eyes, and for some reason, Cas felt like it was foreshadowing for what was to come. His insticts were screaming at him, telling him to run away because Dean was most certainly going to make a move tonight.

But he stood his ground. He could go through with this, whether Dean was expecting to… sleep with him or not. They had been dating for almost six weeks if you took into account the week before they actually kissed for the first time. That was a long time, wasn't it? From everything Castiel had seen and heard, Dean should've already jumped his bones by now. But he hadn't. Because that perfect son of a bitch was sticking to his promise, to his commitment to taking things slow.

"Aw, stop blushing and get your cute little ass over here," Dean called, gesturing for him to come over, "I don't wanna eat dinner too late!"

_There it is_, Cas thought, his imagination gladly providing a vivid image of Dean throwing their dinner aside, pushing him onto the table, and pressing his lips hungrily to his skin. Dean wanted to have enough time after dinner so that they could… oh God, he really hoped he could go through with this.

"Cas, baby, what are you doing just standing there?" Dean chuckled, catching the younger man off guard with the pet name he had recently given him.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Castiel muttered, shuffling over to the passenger side door and quickly climbing in, "I just saw you pull up in _this,_ and I just- _wow_."

Dean laughed, throwing his head back and letting out a loud chuckle. Cas loved it when he laughed like that, throwing his whole body into it, such an easy and honestly happy sound that made him feel oddly at home.

"She's pretty impressive," he admitted, flashing Castiel one of his cocky little smirks, "but you should see the beauty I have back at home. I'll take you out in a drive in _her_ one day, and you'll never look at this car the same way again."

Cas rolled his eyes, trying to imagine what kind of car could possibly be better than this one. The fucking thing probably had a built-in swimming pool or something.

"I'm sure she's something," Cas replied cheekily, turning to face Dean with his own mischievous grin, "just like you."

"You're too sweet," Dean laughed, turning the ignition with an easy twist of his fingers, "I wish I was as special as my Baby."

"Your Baby? I thought I was your baby!" Cas cried, glaring at him playfully.

"You are, you are!" the brunet reassured him, raising his hands off of the steering wheel and motioning for him to calm down, "but I also have my _Baby, _the best car a guy could ever ask for."

"Well, shit, Dean," Castiel gasped mockingly, "why don't you just have dinner with your car then?"

"You know, Cas," Dean chuckled, finally pressing down on the gas pedal, "I never thought you were this sassy when I first met you."

"Well," the younger man sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "now you know."

"Yeah, I guess I do," Dean sighed, glancing over at Cas with a lazy smile.

He suddenly reached over, grabbing Castiel's left hand and interlacing their fingers. He rested their clasped hands on the console between their seats, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Although Dean swore up and down that he wasn't a romantic, Cas knew the truth, knew that it was a load of bullshit. Because big, bad Dean Winchester loved to hold hands.

When they shared their daily coffee, Dean would reach across the table and intertwine their fingers. When they had gone to the park that day, their hands, clasped tightly together, swung easily between them as they walked. When they had visited the supermarket one day because Cas had run out of milk, Dean even held his hand as they strode down the aisles. It was as if he couldn't live without the pressure of the younger man's hand in his, worried that it was the only thing keeping Castiel from running away.

"You know you love it," Cas replied softly, basking in the warmth of Dean's emerald gaze.

* * *

_Okay, this is starting to get a little ridiculous_, Castiel decided, staring up at Dean's "house" in wonder.

Yet again, Dean had managed to inadvertently surprise Cas. First, he had been shocked when he asked him for his number. Then, he had been floored by Dean's office building, towering over him and making him feel insignificant. And that fucking picnic in the park, the perfect romantic date, straight from a movie.

"This is your house?" Castiel cried, turning in his seat to look at the other man. Dean just nodded, chuckling softly at Cas's reaction. How was he so calm about this? His damn house was a mansion!

The Winchesters' house was surrounded by an expansive yard, all lush green grass with a single tree, a gorgeous weeping willow, looming over the driveway. The driveway was fairly long, leading straight to a spacious garage, occupied by three other cars. The house was two stories tall and surprisingly wide, painted using an elegant white color. An awning was built along the front of the house, held up by four, thick pillars. The roof was covered in black tiles, and the windows were rectangular with small windowsills. Bushes lined a thin pathway from the driveway to a set of steps leading up to the door, a tall wooden one painted black. The house fit the sleek, classic look of the two Winchester brothers.

"It sure is," Dean trilled, glancing up into the branches of the weeping willow as they passed beneath it, "home sweet home."

"Son of a bitch," Castiel whispered, completely at a loss for words. He had always dreamed of living in a place like this, a place that begged you to come through its gorgeous front door and stay for a while, curled up in a plush chair as you gazed out the window at the beautiful world outside.

Dean pulled the car into the driveway, parking next to a much older looking vehicle. Although it wasn't as new as the convertible, there was still something about it that was unmistakably sexy.

"Oh, and there's my Baby," Dean cooed, gesturing at the other car before pulling out the keys from the ignition, "a 1967 Impala, the car that you're so jealous of."

Now that Castiel saw the car, he had to admit he understood why Dean loved it so much. It was positively stunning in its own way.

"I can see why you love her so much," Castiel admitted, unbuckling his seat belt and pushing open the door, "she's beautiful."

"Damn right she is!" Dean replied proudly, slamming his door shut as he stepped out of the car. Castiel shut his own door, frozen in place as he continued to gape at The Winchester Mansion.

Dean came around to stand by his side, reaching down and grabbing Castiel's hand as he always did. Cas glanced down at their hands, unable to stop his lips from turning up into a little smile.

"Now, let's get inside so I can show you just how good of a cook I really am," Dean teased, lightly tugging the younger man along as he headed towards the narrow pathway leading to the door. Castiel eagerly obliged, walking along, trying to keep up with the other man's pace.

Dean excitedly threw open the door and motioned for Cas to step through the threshold, bowing theatrically.

"You're such a-"

The final word would forever be stuck in Castiel's throat._Well, what do you know_, he thought, _another surprise_.

The first thing he noticed was the chandelier dangling from the ceiling, its hanging crystals refracting dazzling white light across the cream-colored walls. A wide, marble staircase lined the right wall, leading up to the second story. The floor was also marble, illuminated by the intricate chandelier above. A low table lined the other wall, covered in several framed pictures.

Off to the right was what looked like the living room. An immense plasma screen television hung on the far wall, set up in front of a leather, semi circular couch. A glass table was arranged between the television and the couch. The room was furnished with hardwood floors and maroon walls, a room specifically for sitting around and watching television.

Then, off to the left was the dinning room. The room Dean was currently dragging him towards.

This room also had hardwood floors, and the walls were painted a creamy white. A long, walnut table with six chairs sat in the middle of the room, decorated with two tall candles and a small vase containing a single rose as the centerpiece. The plates, silverware, and wine glasses were already in place, neatly arranged with a folded cloth sitting on each plate. A bottle of what appeared to be a Chardonnay was also set out, ready to be uncorked and drank.

"Here we go," Dean announced, pulling Cas towards the nearest chair, "you can just sit here while I whip us up some dinner. I'm obviously a professional so it shouldn't take me that long."

Castiel rolled his eyes but obeyed, taking a seat as Dean pulled out the chair for him. He shifted a little, making himself comfortable, doubting that Dean could cook them something in less than thirty minutes.

"Sure," Cas drawled, tilting his head back so that he could stare up at Dean, "the perfect combination of lawyer and chef."

"You know it," Dean purred, leaning down to place a quick kiss on Castiel's lips. He hummed softly into his mouth before pulling away, laughing when Cas tried to follow his retreating lips with a disappointed little whimper. Dean winked at the younger man, ignoring his frustrated pout, and strutted in the direction of a doorway which Castiel assumed led to the kitchen.

"You'll love it, Cas!" he called, his voice slightly muffled by the wall separating them, "it's my favorite thing to make!"

Castiel wanted to reply with some clever retort, keeping up with their playful banter, but he felt like now was the wrong time. Dean seemed so thrilled to be cooking for him, that childish excitement Cas loved showing through again.

"I bet it'll be delicious!" he agreed, speaking loudly so that the other man could hear him.

And he meant it.

* * *

"Oh my God," Castiel moaned, popping another plump meatball into his mouth.

"Good, right?" Dean asked, smirking at him from across the table, wine glass in hand.

"God yes," Cas mumbled, struggling to talk as he chewed, "this is delicious."

Dean chuckled, his lips pressed to the rim of his glass as he took a sip of wine. Cas couldn't help but watch the way his thick lips looked as he drank, the clear liquid gliding across them and down his throat.

"And you somehow remembered that my favorite kind of wine," Castiel continued, lifting his own glass to his lips,"is a Chardonnay."

Dean shrugged, setting his glass back on the table. He always seemed so confident, as if he always knew the right thing to do or say.

"Well," he drawled, picking up his fork, spinning it so that spaghetti noodles wrapped around the tongs, "I figured that since you have to remember my favorite type of coffee, I could do the same for you. With wine."

Cas felt warmth rush to his face, the beginnings of a flush reddening his cheeks. It was moments like this that reminded him why he- no, _no_, he couldn't think about that. That four-letter word was an angry, cruel beast, patiently waiting to sink its claws into him, only to tear away his flesh when it leaves.

"Wow," Cas replied softly, "that's really sweet of you, Dean. You didn't have to do that."

"No, I didn't _have _to. But this is all for you. And it's the right-"

"No, Dean, really-"

"Dammit, Cas, stop that," Dean interjected, a sharpness to his voice.

"Stop what?" Cas wondered, tilting his head to the side. He wasn't used to Dean being upset with him.

"That thing you do," Dean pleaded, "the way you feel like people shouldn't do anything special for you. Like you don't deserve it or something."

His throat felt tighter, like someone had wrapped their fingers around his neck with the intent to choke him. A small gasp slipped past his lips, hanging in the air between them, an air marred by a thick and unnerving silence.

"Dean-"

"No, I'm serious," Dean growled, dropping his fork, still wrapped in spaghetti, "you're too fucking special to think that. You deserve every single thing that I've done for you. And every compliment I've ever given you."  
Castiel stared at him, biting his lip, completely overwhelmed. Dean spoke with such passion, such conviction. He believed what he said, that much was obvious.

"No one has ever said they thought I was special before," Cas whispered, gazing down at the noodles on his plate, the way they tangled together, buried beneath meatballs and rich tomato sauce.

"Well, they should," Dean replied vehemently, leaning forward in his seat, "I don't know how they can't! You're smart, funny, attractive- a better man than I could ever dream of being!"

Castiel's head shot up, shaking from side to side in disagreement.

"Don't say that, Dean," Cas begged, "you're an incredible person."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, pain flashing in his eyes, but then froze. His lips turned up into a weak smile.

"Agree to disagree," he replied with a nervous chuckle, picking his fork back up again.

"You can't do that," Cas sighed, spearing another meatball on his fork, "you can't say all of that nice shit to me, and then turn around and put yourself down."

Dean stopped, a long noodle dangling from his mouth. If it were any other situation, Castiel probably would've laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

"I don't know, you act all cocky and confident, but then you go and," Cas hesitated, watching Dean suck up the noodle with his brow furrowed, "and say little things that make me think you don't feel that way about yourself at all. Like maybe you actually… have really low self-esteem like me."

Dean finished the noodle and sighed, reaching his hands up to rub his temples. Cas wondered if he'd hit a nerve, that just maybe he had uncovered Dean's greatest secret. He knew a lot about the other man, but at the same time, he didn't.

"Listen, Cas," Dean began, "no one knows about this except for Sammy, you got it?"

Castiel nodded eagerly, his curiosity officially piqued.

"Alright," the other man sighed, placing his elbows on the table and leaning in even closer, "you're right, I actually have some pretty damn low self-esteem. And I wish I could tell you why, I really do, but I just can't. That's why I've never told anyone, because I know they'll want an explanation. But I just can't give them a good one."

Cas felt his heart slowly shattering into a million pieces, every word out of Dean's mouth breaking him apart. It was a confession, something that practically no one knew. Yes, he did want an explanation, but for Dean's sake, he wouldn't push for it.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel answered honestly, setting the fork back down on his plate, his meatball long forgotten, "I wish that there was some way I could make you see how amazing you really are."

"It's okay," Dean assured him, taking a quick sip from his wine glass before continuing, "you don't have to do anything at all. You've already done enough for me."

_Well, that answer's just not good enough_, Cas thought, his mind desperately grasping at ideas. There had to be _something _he could do. And then it him.

"Dean…" he muttered, pushing his chair back so that he could stand, "I think I know what I can do for you."

Dean watched him as he stood, looking completely and utterly confused. Cas slowly approached him, staring intently into his eyes, sliding his fingertips across the smooth wood of the table as he walked closer. _You can do this_, his mind encouraged.

"Really now?" Dean asked, fixing Castiel with his emerald gaze, "And what's that?"

Instead of answering the other man, Cas tugged his chair out, loving the little gasp it elicited from him. Mustering up every ounce of courage he had, he lifted his one leg and slid onto Dean's lap.

Dean's eyes widened, staring up at Cas as if he didn't know what the hell he was. It was strangely empowering to see Dean be the vulnerable one for once.

"Um, Cas, baby," he stuttered, "this isn't what I meant when I-"

"Shhh," Castiel purred, placing a finger over the other man's lips, "I don't care what you meant. This is what I'm going to do for you."

"But-"

"Yes, I want this," Cas assured him, running his fingers down Dean's chest, "the real question is- do you?"

"_Fuck_, Cas," Dean moaned, frantically grasping at the back of Castiel's neck, pulling him in and claiming his lips. The kiss was hungry, much hungrier than most of their kisses in the past.

Cas eagerly melted against Dean, grasping at the fabric of his white button-down shirt. His lips were pliable, anxious to be parted and dominated. He sighed softly into Dean's mouth, using his firm grip on his shirt to pull him in even closer.

Suddenly, Dean pulled away, his fingers flying down to the hem of Castiel's sweater vest. He pulled it over the younger man's head, tossing it onto the floor a few feet away. Cas's undershirt followed shortly after, exposing his bare chest to Dean's wandering mouth and fingers.

Dean leaned back in, pressing his lips hungrily to Castiel's collarbone, trailing kisses down his chest, licking and teasing his nipples. Cas gasped, digging his fingers into Dean's hair, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. The other man moaned against his skin, bringing his hand down to Castiel's pants, cupping his hardening cock through his jeans.

Those lips, those fucking lips, pressed against his skin, leaving delicious heat in their wake. That hand, that impossibly large palm pressed against the crotch of his jeans, rubbing up and down, a glorious source of friction, giving him exactly what he wanted. He wanted to know what that hand would feel like wrapped around his bare cock, twisting and sliding, pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, Dean," Cas groaned, pressing his hips down, "we need to- _shit_- we need to get to the bedroom."

"Mhm," Dean hummed, reluctantly leaning back. He looked wild, his hair ruffled, his lips swollen and red, the stunning green of his eyes reduced to a thin ring, blotted out by the inky blackness of his dilating pupils.

Castiel quickly jumped off of Dean's lap, excitedly grasping his wrists, tugging him up onto his feet. The other man chuckled, the sound more gravelly than usual, sending a shiver down Cas's spine. He could only imagine what his voice would sound like, hearing him cry out his name in that husky tone.

"Upstairs?" Cas croaked, already dragging Dean in the direction of the steps.

"Yes, fuck, _hurry_," Dean gasped, turning his wrists and fingers so that he was the one gripping Castiel's hands, easily yanking him up the stairs. Cas felt giddy, like he was floating on a cloud, gliding up the stairs, nothing about his surroundings important enough to notice.

Before he knew it, they were running down a hallway, not a single detail catching his eye. He focused on the door at the end of the hall, the one Dean was pulling him towards, the one that led to the room Castiel knew would become his favorite. There were so many promises behind that door, promises of happiness, promises of passion.

They crashed into the door, Dean shoving it open as if it weighed nothing, ignoring the way it slammed against the wall behind it. Again, Cas had no idea what the room was like, other than the plush white blanket Dean was pushing him into.

Dean shifted, straddling the younger man's hips, pressing their clothed cocks against each other. Castiel moaned loudly, arching his back, longing to increase the friction, to bring himself closer to toe-curling pleasure. Dean leaned down, sealing his lips to Cas's, licking into his mouth, their tongues brushing.

"This isn't fair," Cas panted, turning his head away, grappling at the buttons of Dean's shirt. His fingers were shaking, making it almost impossible to unbutton the shirt, to reveal the smooth skin beneath. Dean chuckled softly, reaching between them to push Cas's hands away. With surprising speed, he undid each button, tugging the shirt off of his arms before throwing it carelessly to the side.

"Better?" Dean purred, trailing his fingers down his bare chest, lingering on the firm muscles of his abdomen.

"Almost," Castiel growled, reaching out towards the zipper on Dean's pants. They needed to go- _now_.

"No, no, no," Dean scolded mockingly, knocking Cas's fingers out of the way, "you first."

He moved his hands down to the zipper on Castiel's jeans, slowly pulling it down, maddeningly slow. When he had managed to tug it all the way down, he muttered something that sounded like "son of a bitch" before gripping the waistband and pulling down. Cas's pants soon joined Dean's shirt on the floor, no longer needed.

Frantically, Castiel reached for Dean's pants again, desperate to get them off. This time, the other man allowed him to, watching in fascination as Cas quickly yanked the zipper down, hesitantly pressing his hand to Dean's length through his boxers. He gasped, thrusting his hips up into the touch. Castiel smiled, pleased with the reaction.

"Wait," Dean whimpered, lifting himself off of Cas's hips. He pulled his pants off, yet again shocking Castiel with how fast he managed to undress himself. They landed on the floor with a satisfying little _thwump_, just another addition to the pile of discarded clothes beside the bed.

"Oh, _shit_," Cas whined, his eyes rolling back in his head as Dean lowered himself back onto his hips, bringing their bare chests together, their cocks brushing against each other through the thin fabric of their boxers. Tendrils of warmth began to unfurl in the pit of Castiel's belly, pushing him towards the edge, oh so fucking close to the edge.

"The boxers," he rasped, "the fucking boxers need to go."

"God yes," Dean whimpered, leaning back again. Both boxers hit the floor faster than any of the other articles of clothing, the desperate need to feel one another becoming more and more unbearable. Cas could feel how much they both wanted the contact, wanted _this_.

Dean was back on him in seconds, bringing their achingly hard erections together, pushing his hips up. Castiel gasped, his fingers digging into the thick fabric of the covers beneath, struggling to find something to hold onto as he rode through his waves of pleasure.

"Dean!" Cas cried, jerking his hips up. He could feel that heat creeping across his skin, up to his face, down to his throbbing erection. It was so powerful, so overwhelming, that he could feel it in his bones, pushing its way beneath his skin. He had never felt so alive.

"Yeah, baby, I'm gonna take care of you," Dean panted, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks, whimpering at the slick, velvety feel of skin on skin. He quickly slid his hand up, moving it along with the thrust of his hips. He ran his thumb along both of their slits, gasping out Castiel's name, bringing his hand back down and leaning his head back.

Just as Cas thought, the way Dean groaned his name in that wrecked voice was positively sinful, filling the air with its rich sound. He wanted to hear that same voice cry out his name so loudly that Dean's neighbors would know it, would know that Castiel Novak belonged to Dean Winchester, that they were one in the same, an inseparable pair.

Dean's hip movements were becoming more erratic, his hand moving over their erections in a frenzied rush, pulling, twisting. Castiel felt like his brain was melting, reduced to a pathetic, quivering mess. Dean's whimpers, his hand, his hips, his warm skin, his slick cock- it was all that mattered, all that Cas could see, all that he could feel, could focus on.

"Dean, I think I-I'm gonna- _fuck_," he whined, squeezing his eyes shut, the rest of his words caught in his throat. He hadn't realized how much he needed this, this intimacy. It surpassed his wildest fantasies, full of more passion and pleasure than he could have ever imagined.

"It's okay," Dean panted, leaning down, his lips brushing against Castiel's ear as he spoke, "let it go. Let it all go."

And he did. Everything was suddenly white, blinding him, engulfing him. His toes curled and his body shook, the force of his orgasm completely overtaking him. The sensation was ineffable, an indescribable experience, like nothing he had ever felt before.

Dean thrust once more before he joined Cas in his state of insurmountable bliss, their come mixing together, slick against each of their bellies. He slumped against Castiel's spent body, breathing heavily, his fingers shaking as he raised his hands to cup the younger man's face. He gazed down at him, his lust blown pupils staring straight into the little bit of cerulean blue still visible in Cas's eyes.

"I can't believe you think I'm _that_ great," Dean whispered, his breath ghosting across the tender skin of Castiel's neck.

Cas laughed, a weak little chuckle but genuine nonetheless. Because Dean would never know just how amazing Castiel thought he was.


	9. Caught

**Author's Note:** Dean and Cas completely redefine "the morning after".

* * *

Tingling. A gentle, warm feeling tracing its way across his skin, dancing along his arms, his legs, his chest. It was a new and certainly welcome sensation, one that enveloped Castiel in its comforting embrace. And the only thing he could think about was whether this was the way it always felt.

Cas had seen many people scurry out of rooms ridiculously early in the morning, their eyes scanning the hallway once, twice, maybe even three times before they shuffled quickly down the steps and out of the building. Guilt and shame were written all over their faces, the faces of people who were just beginning to realize the consequences of their actions. And then there were the rare few who seemed reluctant to leave, as if they wanted to stay, to try and start a real relationship.

But Castiel didn't feel like he fit into either of those scenarios. When he had woken up, Dean was still there, his arms secured tightly around Cas's waist. He hadn't left him in the middle of the night, and Castiel had no motivation or desire to leave Dean either. It was nothing like what he had observed in the past, so much happier and more peaceful.

Now here he was, staring out the window of Dean's car, on the way back to his dorm, an unashamed smile on his lips. The sound of classic rock- Dean's favorite- washed over him, exciting him. He had done it, he had actually done it! For Dean, he had faced one of his greatest fears. And Castiel knew that without him, if it had been anyone else, it would've been impossible.

"Alright, Cas," Dean sighed, bringing the car to a stop along the sidewalk, "looks like we're here."

Castiel hadn't even noticed they were so close to his dorm. From the moment he climbed out of Dean's bed and dressed himself, time had seemed to pass by in a blur, as if he had unknowingly slipped into some fantasy world, some carefully hidden paradise.

"Yep," Cas replied softly, turning in his seat to face the other man, "looks like it."

Dean stared at him for several seconds, his eyes flicking down to Castiel's lips. Slowly, he leaned in, lightly setting his hand on the younger man's thigh as he moved. Cas basked in the moment, the way Dean's eyelashes fluttered before they closed, the way his freckles stood out at this proximity, the way his full lips softened. It sent Castiel's brain into a frenzy, only one thought on his mind: _He was one lucky son of a bitch_.

Their lips met, noses lightly brushing as they tilted their heads, finding just the right angle. It was a chaste kiss, Dean pressing just a little pressure, humming his approval against Castiel's lips. Cas reached out, trailing his fingertips down from Dean's shoulder to his wrist, resting his hand there, rubbing his thumb across the other man's pulse point. His skin was so soft, his lips so pliant, his touch so careful. The way he kissed Castiel made him feel like a precious, fragile object that could easily break apart at any moment.

Reluctantly, Dean pulled away, leaning back slowly. If Cas hadn't been in a rush to get back to his dorm, he probably would've yanked the other man closer and kissed him again, this time with more fervor and passion. It sure as hell was tempting.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," Cas assured him, squeezing Dean's wrist before pulling his hand away.

"Damn right you will," Dean replied softly, a hopeful smile on his face, "bye, Cas."

"Bye," Castiel whispered, pushing open his door and stepping out onto the black pavement. Even as he walked away, he continued to stare into Dean's eyes, holding his gaze. The last thing he wanted to do was leave.

He stood on the sidewalk, one of Dean's spare bags tucked under his arm. Dean watched him for a few more seconds before he reluctantly rested his hands on the steering wheel. He rolled up the window, winked at Castiel with a lazy grin on his face, and then drove away, leaving the younger man alone. Cas watched the silver car leave, staring at its retreating shape longingly, wishing that it would turn around and come back for him.

His dorm paled in comparison to the lavish warmth and comfort of the Winchester's home. As he walked up to the front door, sliding his key card into the little slot, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. He pushed open the door, his mouth gaping. _He had slept with Dean Winchester._ He had actually slept with someone, the only person he had come to really care about in a long time.

He slowly made his way up the stairs, not exactly thrilled to return to his lonely little dorm room. When he reached his room, he slipped inside and threw himself down on his couch. It was nothing like the plush mattress in Dean's room, and it didn't carry his familiar scent either.

Castiel sighed, settling deeper into the cushions. Maybe he could watch something on television, distract himself from the fact-

_Knock, knock, knock._

Cas jumped, nearly tripping as he got to his feet. Who the hell was at his door this early in the morning?

"Hello?" he called hesitantly, fear coursing its way through his veins. The worst scenarios began to invade his mind. What if one of the jocks had seen Dean drop him off and had followed him up to his room?

"It's me, you little shit," a feminine voice replied angrily, "open the door before I bust it down. You have a lot of explaining to do."

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. It wasn't the best situation, but it could be worse. _Jo._

* * *

Jo Harvelle. There were so many things that Castiel could say about Jo, his one true friend, that he wouldn't even know where to begin. He had known her since he was in 9th grade, an awkward high school freshman in desperate need of someone to confide in. At first, she had been reluctant to talk to him. He wasn't exactly popular, and yet there she was, the beautiful blonde with the attitude and personality of an easygoing guy. People loved her, loved her down-to-earth nature. That is, until she befriended Cas.

He still struggled to believe that she had given up her reputation to be with him. In the beginning, he had thought she had only chosen to talk to him because she pitied him. But after a while, especially when she began scolding him for not standing up to others, he realized that wasn't it at all. She spent almost waking hour with him their sophomore year, showing up unexpectedly with some crazy mission in mind. They became an inseparable pair, "the dynamic duo" as Jo liked to call them. And even though she could be stubborn and a pain in the ass sometimes, he still loved her.

"Okay, what the hell?" she cried, throwing herself down onto the couch as if she owned the place, "I show up to ask if you wanna have a movie night again, and I see you getting out of a fucking silver BMW with a male model at the wheel?"

Castiel blushed, hesitantly joining the blonde on the couch. He tried to avoid her fiery gaze, frustration emanating from her golden brown eyes. There was nothing worse than an angry Jo.

"I, um," he mumbled, "I was going to tell you about that."

"Oh!" she cried, chuckling mockingly, "and when were you going to do that? When you finally decided to bring your new boyfriend home to meet mommy Jo?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, turning reluctantly to face his friend. She was dressed in a loose red shirt and her favorite pair of dark wash jeans. Whatever movie she was planning on watching with him must be one neither of them already had. She looked like she was ready to go out somewhere, maybe the video store.

"No," he snapped, straightening up, "I was just going to tell you the next time I saw you. Which is- well, what do you know- right now."

"Dammit Cas," she sighed, poking him in the chest, "you're lucky I like you. I wouldn't let just anyone keep a secret like that from me."

Cas smiled smugly, pushing her finger away.

"I know," he replied with a shrug, "It's hard to get mad at little ole' me, huh?"

"Oh shut up," Jo chuckled, shoving him playfully, "just tell me the story already before I change my mind and punch you in the face."

"Fine, fine," Castiel joked, "I'll tell you. But it's kind of a long story. And a weird one, too."

Cas went on to tell her everything. He told her about the moment Dean had strut into the coffee shop for the first time, melting his heart with four simple words. He included the time Dean had allowed him to borrow one of his shirts, the time they shared their first kiss, the time they visited the park and Dean surprised him with a romantic picnic. He mentioned his visit to Dean's office, even recounting the way he had found himself pressed against the other man's desk with a set of incredibly soft lips pressed to his skin. Lastly, he told her about their dinner the night before, the one Dean had taken the time to make for him, and the night that had followed. He didn't necessarily go into detail, but he knew Jo would want to hear the basics, get an idea of what Dean was like in bed.

The entire time, Jo listened quietly. It was weird considering the kind of person Cas knew her to be. Normally, she'd be interrupting with a clever or dirty response every couple seconds. But instead, she occasionally nodded her head in agreement and her eyes widened when he mentioned the moments they had kissed and the time they had slept together. He liked the change in behavior, but, at the same time, her silence worried him.

When he finished, he let out a deep sigh, surprised at the amount of weight that seemed to lift off of his shoulders. He hadn't realized how much he had needed to get this off his chest.

"So," he finished softly, "that's Dean. My… boyfriend."

He liked that, his boyfriend. It felt good to finally say it out loud, felt real.

At first, Jo didn't respond. Her eyes slowly skimmed over Castiel, narrowed in suspicion. She shifted in her seat, tucking her feet underneath her and leaning closer.

"Wow," she finally responded in a whisper.

"Yeah, I guess it's a lot to-"

"Wow," she repeated, her voice louder, "_wow_."

"Um-"

"You weren't gonna tell me about all of that until now?" she cried, a hint of anger in her voice, "About your love affair with Mr. Perfect?"

Castiel stared back at her in shock, his mouth gaping and his eyes bugging out of his skull. So she wasn't mad about the fact that he was in a relationship with a guy that was a little older than him, wasn't mad about the fact that he was in a relationship with a _man_. No, she was only upset that he hadn't told her yet.

"I wasn't sure how you'd take it, for one thing," he insisted, reaching out and grabbing her wrists, "I mean, you know that I've always wondered if I was bisexual, but now I know for a fact that I am. Aren't you a little surprised or pissed that my first relationship is with a guy?"

"Why the hell would I be mad about you dating a dude?" she scoffed, glaring down at Castiel's fingers wrapped securely around her wrists, "You know I'm more open-minded than that!"

Cas swallowed nervously, glancing away from Jo's piercing gaze. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right.

"Besides," she continued, "that guy was so fucking hot! Of course I wouldn't be upset. Hell, I might even be jealous, but that's all."

He couldn't help but laugh. This was what he loved the most about Jo. She had the uncanny ability to make him laugh, even when he was so anxious and nervous that all he wanted to do was scream.

"So, you're not actually mad? About... us?" he asked hesitantly, flashing her a hopeful smile.

"Of course not," she chuckled, bringing his hands up to her lips so that she could press a quick kiss to the soft skin there, "I would never be mad at you about something like this."

"That's so gre-"

"But you still should've told me sooner, you little shit," she grumbled, pushing his hands away and turning to face the television, "You should've told me the second that fine piece of ass walked into that damn coffee shop."

Cas rolled his eyes. He was beginning to wonder why he had ever been reluctant to tell Jo about Dean in the first place. If there was anyone that would accept the news with open arms, it was her.

"I know, I know," he admitted, "I was being stupid, okay? I'm just a little paranoid because I don't want anyone else to hear about it."

"Like the jocks?" she asked gently, glancing over at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeah," he sighed, running his fingers through the ruffled strands of his black hair, "like them."

Without warning, Jo threw her arms around Cas, pulling him close, She buried her face in his neck, breathing out a shaky sigh. Cas sat stiff in her embrace, shocked by the sudden gesture of affection.

"Jo..."

"I won't let them hurt you," she growled, tightening her hold, "If they try, they'll have to go through me first."

Cas felt like the biggest idiot in the entire world. This was the person he hadn't wanted to tell about Dean? The only person that would put herself in danger to keep him safe?

He reached up and rested his hand on the back of her head, burying his fingers in her thick blonde hair. She thankfully wasn't crying, that would be too strange, but the way she was clinging to him was certainly weird enough. He couldn't remember the last time she had hugged him like this. It had been too long.

"Thank you," he whispered soothingly, "let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

* * *

Dean felt like he had lost a limb, maybe one of his legs or arms. It was an awful feeling, the sensation of being empty, a hollow shell.

As he stood in front of the door to his house, he realized just how much he missed having Cas by his side. The younger man had somehow managed to become a part of him, a critical component of his entire being.

But he hadn't really noticed it until now. Their night together, it had changed everything. Before, he had felt alone without Castiel's presence, but now, he just felt miserable. _Incomplete._

Reluctantly, he turned the door knob and slipped inside. He didn't even know where he wanted to go. The only room in the house that seemed to hold any semblance of joy right now was his bedroom, the comforting plush blankets on his bed that still held Cas's scent.

He slowly began to make his way up the steps, heading straight for his bedroom. He just needed some time to think and sort things out. A lot had happened to him in the past several weeks after all.

He had made it halfway up the staircase when he heard footsteps from below. He froze, glancing over the banister. But he shouldn't have looked, he really shouldn't have fucking looked.

"Hey," Sam called, leaning against the wall. He was already dressed in one of his navy blue suits, just about to head off to work.

"Hey," Dean responded, smiling weakly, "are you heading into work now?"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam replied, nodding his head, "I am."

"Good," Dean chuckled, "I'll go grab my-"

"Where were you?" the younger Winchester interrupted, his brow furrowed.

"Oh, I was just, um," Dean stuttered, "going out to grab some breakfast. We were out of milk."

"Bullshit," Sam deadpanned, fixing his brother with an icy glare, "where were you really?"

Okay, this was bad. Sam wasn't supposed to find out about he and Cas for a while, and he definitely wasn't supposed to find out about it like this. The whole situation was fucked up.

"I..." he muttered, licking his lips. He felt like he was getting ready to jump off of a cliff, preparing to fall to his death. Sam watched him as he contemplated how to respond, never moving an inch.

"I was taking Cas home," he answered honestly, throwing up his hands in defeat. What else was he supposed to say? Sam obviously knew something already.

"That's what I thought," Sam sighed, straightening up. He took a few steps closer to the staircase, looking up at Dean with pity in his eyes.

"Dean, we need to talk."


	10. Sam Knows

**Author's Note:** The one where Sam finds out.

* * *

"He's hiding something from me."

Gabe cringed, the rag he had been cleaning with accidentally slipping out of his fingers. He had been waiting for something like this to happen. Honestly, he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

"I'm sure he hides a lot of things from you," Gabe chuckled weakly, glancing up into Sam's narrowed eyes, "your brother sure as hell isn't an open book."

"Yeah, you can say that again," Sam muttered, taking another sip from his cappuccino.

Although Gabe liked Cas, when he really thought about it, Sam had a right to be suspicious and upset. For the past several weeks, Dean would make sure that he had left the coffee shop before his younger brother showed up. Of course, Sam knew that Dean and Cas were friends and that they regularly talked, but the little kiss his older brother would place on Cas's cheek before leaving would certainly raise some red flags.

"What do you think his deal is?" Gabe asked, leaning against the counter, "you think he's found a girl or something?"

Sam titled his head to the side, his brow furrowed. He set his cappuccino down and sighed heavily.

"He's definitely found someone," Sam agreed, "I'm just starting to wonder if it's actually a girl."

_Okay, definitely not good._

"Whoa, you think Dean-o's found himself a dude?" Gabe cried, laughing as if it were the craziest thing he'd ever heard.

"Oh yeah," Sam continued, nodding his head, "I heard him on the phone the other night, and the voice on the other end was definitely too deep to be a woman's."

Gabe swallowed nervously, picking the rag back up and resuming his cleaning. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. The two lovebirds thought they were so clever, tiptoeing around behind Sam's back, but the guy wasn't stupid. He had gone to Stanford for Christ's sake!

"Wow," Gabe drawled, "I didn't see that one coming."

Sam acknowledged him with a slight nod, peering down at the black lid of his coffee cup. A couple minutes of silence passed before he spoke again, his tone sharper than before.

"Actually, I'm not all that surprised," he admitted, aimlessly running his pointer finger around the perimeter of the cup's lid, avoiding Gabe's look of confusion.

"What?" Gabe squeaked, his bewilderment quickly changing to horror. _Please don't know, please don't know_, he silently begged, biting his lip anxiously.

"Gabriel…" he began softly, sending a shiver down the shorter man's spine at the sound of his full name, "this is going to sound crazy, I know, but I'm pretty sure I have an idea of who Dean's been seeing."

_Not Cas, just don't fucking say Cas._

"I think… I think he's dating Cas."

* * *

Dean couldn't listen to this anymore. He needed to get away, to go anywhere that Sam wasn't.

"Dean, please hear me out," Sam called, frantically chasing after Dean as he hurried towards his car.

"Just leave me the fuck alone, Sammy," Dean snapped, throwing open the driver's side door, "it's none of your damn business."

"Of course it is!" Sam cried, shoving his body between Dean and the car. He rested his hands on his older brother's chest, pushing him back, struggling against his surprising strength.

"My love life is _my_ problem," Dean growled, "you never see me trying to interfere with your perfect little relationships. Even though most of the chicks you date are uptight-"

"Oh, shut up!" Sam interjected, his scowling face only inches away from Dean's, "you just never take the time to get to know any of them!"

Dean scoffed, taking a step back. He crossed his arms, leaning all of his weight on his left leg, fixing Sam with an icy glare.

"I remember one that I got to know pretty well," Dean snarled, "except that it was a 'he', and I didn't know you guys were like _that_ until-"

Sam rushed at him, grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket and slamming him up against the side of his car. Dean was strong, but there was only so much he could do to fight off a 6'4" wall of muscle.

"I told you to never bring that fucking night up again," he hissed, "that was a mistake, and, for all I care, it didn't happen. Do you understand?"

There weren't many occasions when Dean found himself afraid of his younger brother. But this definitely qualified as one of those occasions.

"Yeah," he muttered, turning his head away, uncomfortable with the lack of personal space, "I understand."

Sam held him in place for several more seconds before reluctantly loosening his grip. He stepped back, his chest heaving, eyes still wild with fury.

"Good," he mumbled, looking down at the ground, "good."

Silence filled the air, thick with tension. Dean hesitantly moved away from his car, turning as if to climb in, his fingers shaking as he reached into his pocket for his keys.

"Dean…"

He froze, turning back to face Sam. To his relief, some of the anger had seemed to leave his younger brother's face.

"Yeah?" he asked softly, attempting to hold back all of his frustration from earlier. He hated that Sam was trying to end he and Cas's relationship, the only romantic relationship that he'd ever really had. And the only relationship in general that felt meaningful.

"I'm just trying to help you," Sam insisted, "you have to know that."

"Dammit, Sammy-"

"No, just, _please_," he begged, his voice thick with desperation, "you didn't let me finish. Can I just say one thing?"

The last thing Dean wanted to do was say "yes", to give in to his brother and listen to the bullshit kind of advice he wanted to offer him. But he also didn't want to find himself slammed up against the harsh, cold metal of his BMW again.

"Fine," he snapped, rolling his eyes, "but make it quick."

"Great," Sam replied with a weak smile, "one thing, that's it."

_This should be interesting_, Dean thought with a bitter chuckle. There wasn't a single thing he could think of that would persuade him to break it off with Cas.

"I'll just tell you the basic gist of what I'm getting at. So, I'm sure you remember the last time you let yourself get close to someone. It was a while ago, but after everything that happened, I can't imagine you'd-"

"Get to the fucking point," Dean interrupted, glaring at Sam in hopes of stopping him from saying anything he may regret.

"Right, right," Sam muttered, nodding his head, "the point. Okay, well, here's the thing, Dean. I… I don't want you to get hurt again."

Dean flinched, his eyes widening. Was he talking about…? _No._

"How could you even compare Cas to… _him_?" he cried, taking a step forward, "He's nothing like him! _Nothing_!"

"I know, I know," Sam soothed, gesturing for his older brother to calm down, "I'm sorry, that's not what I-"

"You were talking about that son of a bitch when we were inside, too, and that's exactly the kind of shit I don't need to think about right now!"

Sam looked as if he had been kicked, his face contorting with pain. He began to slowly back away, his hands raised in surrender, fear in his eyes.

"I didn't mean that, Dean, I swear-"

"I need to go," Dean whispered, turning back to his car, throwing himself into the driver's seat, "I-I can't do this right now."

"Fuck, _Dean_-"

"I'll see you at work," he growled and slammed the door shut. He started the car faster than he ever had before, jamming the keys into the ignition, pressing his foot to the gas pedal as if his life depended on it.

As he drove away, he didn't dare look back. He knew that Sam would be standing in the driveway, a wounded puppy left to suffer its injuries alone. But there was no possible way he would allow himself to feel sorry for him.

Who the fuck did he think he was? They hadn't talked about that incident since the day after it had happened. It was completely off limits, the one conversation Dean refused to repeat, the one thing he absolutely had to forget if he wanted to move on with his life.

He couldn't believe Sam would even compare Cas to that bastard. There wasn't a single thing that they had in common. They were polar opposites, two different sides of the coin Dean held closest to his heart. He hated the thought of them being similar, the thought of them being joined in any way. But it was true. There was only one other person he had ever let in like he had let in Cas.

And that last thought was what finally pushed him to break down, tears streaming down his face as he drove to meet up with the one person he was most afraid of seeing right now.

* * *

Castiel sighed contentedly, leaning against the counter, a warm Americano in his hand. This had quickly become his favorite time of the day. The time right before Dean would stride through the door, that cocky smirk and intimidating black suit.

Ever since his talk with Jo, he found that he was much happier. It felt good to know that there was someone else other than Gabe who believed he and Dean would last. Before, he had been constantly worrying that Dean would change his mind one day, see the real Castiel Novak and recoil with disgust.

But he still hadn't yet. He still seemed to care about Cas, no matter what flaws he had, no matter what weight he probably placed on the other man's shoulders. As a matter of fact, based on everything Dean had said to him and everything he'd done for him, he was beginning to wonder whether Dean might…

_No,_ Cas scolded himself, _stop that. Dean cares about you, but you can't expect that from him._

Suddenly, the familiar _ding_ of the bell above the door sounded. Castiel's head shot up, excitement pumping through his veins as he looked towards the door. But that excitement quickly faded when he saw Dean's face.

It was nothing like the Dean he had imagined would walk into the shop. No playful grin, no gleaming emerald eyes, no jump in his step. Instead, his cheeks were red and covered with wet streaks, his eyes swollen, his eyelashes fluttering frantically in an attempt to brush away fresh tears. Cas had never seen him look so upset, so hurt and downtrodden. And he definitely had never seen him cry.

"Dean!" Castiel gasped, coming around the counter, desperately weaving his way through tables to get to the other man. He needed to reach out to him, to hold him and wipe away his tears, to bring back that trademark mischievous grin he so loved.

Dean practically threw himself at Cas, wrapping his arms around the younger man's neck, burying his face in the soft skin of his collarbone. Castiel immediately returned the gesture, crushing Dean's shaking body against his chest, burying his fingers in the short strands of his golden brown hair.

"What's wrong?" Cas whispered, his throat tightening, struggling to hold back his own sobs.

Dean didn't answer right away, responding instead with a weak whimper. He tightened his arms around Castiel's neck, burying his nose in the space above the collar of the younger man's shirt.

"Don't leave me," he cried, his voice cracking on the final word.

_What? Where had this come from?_

"I would never leave you," Cas soothed, pressing his lips to Dean's forehead, whispering against his skin, "_never._"

But Dean continued to plead as if he hadn't heard him, begging him not to leave.

"_Please_, Cas, don't leave me. Don't ever leave," he whined, his body shuddering as he let out a particularly loud sob.

Castiel felt as if his heart was shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. What had happened to make Dean believe he would leave him? There wasn't a single thing in the entire universe that would make him want to leave the comfort and compassion of Dean's affection.

"Shhh," he soothed, "it's okay. I'm right here, I'll always be right here. I promise. Okay?"

Dean nodded, another little sob slipping past his lips. He was slowly beginning to calm down, his body only shaking slightly, somewhat better than the awful shuddering from before.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," Cas encouraged, turning so that he could wrap his one arm around Dean's waist, "before any of the other customers get here."

Dean nodded his approval once again, unraveling his arms from around Castiel's neck. He secured one of his arms around the younger man's waist and pulled their bodies closer together.

"Wouldn't wanna ruin my public image," Dean chuckled weakly, glancing over at Cas with a small smile on his face.

Now that was the Dean that Castiel knew.


	11. Love Isn't Really Kind

**Author's Note****:** Is love really patient? Is it _really_ kind?

* * *

Castiel felt like a broken record at this point, repeating the same reassuring words over and over again. Dean had been crying for a solid fifteen minutes by now, and there didn't seem to be an end in sight.

The only thing he could do was attempt to soothe him. He had taken him back to the bathroom, the room where, eight weeks ago, they had been half-dressed, swapping clothes after Cas had accidentally spilled coffee on his shirt.

He had wanted to take Dean back to his dorm, but his shift didn't end for another two hours. Normally, he would've just asked Gabe if he could leave early, but, strangely, his boss was nowhere in sight. So, for now, he was stuck here, sitting on the cold bathroom floor, leaning up against the wall with Dean's head cradled in his lap.

"I-I can't believe Sam would compare you to him," Dean whimpered, closing his eyes as Cas carded his fingers through the short, golden brown strands of his hair.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you," Cas soothed, "Sam doesn't seem like that type of guy."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean mumbled and let out a shaky sigh. Every time Cas looked down at his red eyes and tear stained cheeks, it was like a punch in the face.

Silence fell upon the room, an uncomfortable silence filled with unanswered questions and overwhelming curiosity. Dean kept bringing up some guy that Sam had compared Cas to, and the fact that the younger man had no idea who he was practically drove him insane. He wanted to ask but knew now probably wasn't the right time.

"You want to know, don't you?"

Castiel's eyes widened, peering down into the other man's sad gaze in surprise. It was if he had just read his mind.

"Dean, you don't have to-"

"No, no," he interjected, shaking his head, "you deserve to know."

As excited as Cas was, he remained quiet. He could only imagine how much the other man must trust him to discuss such a touchy subject. Or at least he assumed it was a sensitive area considering the look in Dean's eyes and the tears he'd shed over it.

"Okay," Dean sighed, "it all happened when I was a senior in high school."

* * *

"You're one crazy son of a bitch," Dean chuckled, leaning back on the couch with an amused smirk on his lips.

He was at his friend's house, his best friend, the only person he'd known since he was a tiny first grader staring down the elementary school hallways with pure terror in his eyes. They were the two most popular boys in the entire high school, the head honchos, the classic jocks that every girl wanted. But, to be honest, Dean knew who was really running the school.

Benny Lafitte. The 6-foot quarterback with eyes the color of the sky and the deep, silky voice of an A-list actor. He was a wall of muscles, making sure to work out every single day in order to maintain his status as the guy with the best body. His arms could easily crush you and yet his smile always reduced you to a puddle of pathetic, unresolved sexual frustration. Of course, there was always a beautiful cheerleader dangling from his arm, a triumphant grin on her face as Benny led her through the hallways and brought her along to his games. He had it all, and although Dean was nearly as well-known and adored, he knew where he stood.

But it wasn't really that black and white. Dean had learned a long time ago that life loved to throw him curve balls and watch him struggle as he tried to overcome them.

He and Benny knew everything about each other, all of the closely guarded secrets that they didn't dare admit to anyone else. And that was mostly true. Except that there was something Benny didn't know about Dean and never would.

It started back when he was in middle school while they were over at Benny's house, almost like they were now. They were sitting around watching television, crammed together on the little couch in Benny's bedroom, when a sex scene suddenly came on. By this time, they were in 6th grade and had a pretty good idea about the birds and the bees so it shouldn't have been a big deal. And it wasn't- at first.

The woman was grinding against the man, her skirt hiking up over her thighs, giggling whenever the man moaned her name. Dean was aroused, as he should be, but it wasn't until the man's clothes came off that he really felt something.

Nervous, he glanced over at Benny. The other boy was staring intently at the screen, his eyes eagerly raking over the naked woman. Dean bit his lip, and then made a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. He glanced down at the crotch of Benny's jeans and noticed the way he was rubbing the bulge in his pants.

He was immediately entranced, watching his friend's hand with fascination. The image of his own hand doing the same thing flashed before his eyes, sending an excited shiver down his spine. And then it hit him.

He had a crush on his best friend. No, it wasn't simply because he was fantasizing about getting Benny hard, but because it wasn't the first time he'd thought of him like that before. If he were honest with himself, he'd dreamt about kissing him, slipping his hands beneath his shirt and pressing their bodies together.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he'd blurted, jumping off of the couch and sprinting into the bathroom. Benny, of course, knew what he was doing but had no idea it was because of him.

From that point forward, just about every wet dream Dean had involved his best friend. He couldn't stop staring at him, basking in the warmth of his contagious laughter and cocky smirk. It was hell, having to see someone every day and know that you could never have them.

But tonight, as they sat together on the couch as they'd done many times before, talking about what life would be like after college, Dean lost it. He and Benny had planned on going to the same school to study to become lawyers. It was all part of a big Master Plan they'd decided on back in 4th grade, and eight years later, they were still sticking to it. But the conversation had randomly taken a turn, and now they were talking about Benny's latest conquest.

"You better fucking believe it," Benny snorted, taking a long swig of his beer before setting the bottle down on the floor, "it's about time I found two chicks willing to do a threeway."

"Well, you gotta tell me how it is," Dean replied, struggling to keep the jealousy out of his voice, "seems pretty damn awesome."

"Hell yeah!" the other boy cried, shifting on the couch so that his arm rested along the back of the couch behind Dean, "I just hope they're as freaky as me."

"I'm sure they are," Dean laughed, subtly leaning back so that Benny's arm brushed against the back of his neck.

Benny nodded his head and picked up his beer. Dean couldn't help but glance over and watch the other boy as he drank. As his eyes raked over him, he realized something earth-shattering.

"I love you."

_Thud._ Benny's bottle hit the floor, the cold, yellow liquid spilling onto the white carpet. Dean was frozen, gaping at his friend as if _he_ had spoken those awful words instead of him.

"_What_?" Benny cried, turning to look at Dean with a wild look in his eyes. Dean had known him long enough to know that he had just royally fucked up their friendship.

"Shit, Benny, I-"

"Did you say you fucking love me?" he growled, quickly climbing to his feet, "as in you're gay for me?"

"I-I…"

"Fuck! How long has this been going on?"

"Benny, I don't know, grade school maybe," Dean muttered, averting his gaze from the furious boy standing menacingly over him.

"Grade school?" he screamed, "you've been a fucking fag since _grade school_?"

_Don't cry, don't cry_, Dean silently begged, hesitantly standing. "No, you don't understand-"

"Oh no, I understand alright," Benny snarled, taking a step back from the other boy. He looked so angry, so disgusted, and Dean could feel the room spinning around him.

"Benny, please," he pleaded, tears beginning to blur his vision, "I never meant to-"

"Get the fuck out of my house!" Benny screamed, pointing towards the door, a tear gliding down his cheek, "and get the _fuck_ out of my life!"

Dean could feel the ground drop out from beneath him, the world crashing down around him. He choked out a sob, his legs carrying him towards the door against his will.

"No, no, you can't," he whimpered, " Benny, _no_!"

"Dean, please," Benny whispered, tears now streaming down his face, "it'd be a lot easier for both of us if you just left."

Dean stood by the door, ready to push it open and do exactly as the other boy said. But he couldn't bring himself to do it without knowing one thing first.

"Can you just tell me one thing?" he pleaded, managing to speak through his sobs.

Benny didn't reply, but he didn't walk over and shove him out the door either so Dean took it as a "yes".

"Do you love me? At all?"

The room was painfully quiet, the only sounds to be heard being the soft sounds of the two boys' heavy breathing.

"No," Benny whispered, his voice so low that Dean nearly missed his response.

That was it. That was the final straw that pushed Dean over the edge, that pushed him to finally leave. If Benny, his lifetime friend, didn't even love him, no one ever would.

~the next day~

Benny had really hit a new low. As Dean walked into the school the next morning, he wished he had never even climbed out of bed.

Every person he passed growled "fucking fag" right in his face, some purposely running into his shoulder as they shoved past. The people Dean had considered his friends were the ones who seemed to push him the hardest, to snarl their disgust with the most scorn.

Dean began to sprint down the hallway, desperate to get to his first class and find a forgiving Benny sitting patiently in the seat to his left as he always did.

He frantically threw himself at the door, ignoring the wicked cackles of his classmates when the door didn't open immediately. Thankfully, it flew open after a couple more shoves, and he found himself standing in the middle of the classroom, frantically scanning the room for Benny's twinkling blue gaze.

And he found him but not where he had expected. He was clear on the opposite side of the room, the farthest away from his usual seat that he could possibly get. As Dean met his eyes, he realized just how stupid he'd been in assuming Benny would forgive him.

"Looks like the class cocksucker has finally decided to show his face," Benny jeered, playfully nudging the girl by his side.

It had been a while since Dean had truly had a breakdown, and it was the first time he had one in front of people other than just Benny or Sam. But he couldn't stop it once the feeling enveloped him, his lip quivering, his legs shaking, tears swimming before his eyes. Why did he have to love the self-centered bastard, the jock with the inflated ego who only cared about himself? Why did he still wish that that same asshole would run across the room and wrap his arms around him in a comforting embrace?

He remembered the innocent days, back when they both were young and naive. He remembered the days they sat out by the river fishing because Dean's father had said it was "the manly thing to do". He remembered the days they'd rode down the street on their bikes, racing each other to Benny's house where the winner received four popsicles instead of just one.

He also remembered the days they spent struggling through high school together. Like a stab in the chest, he remembered the first time a girl had broken up with Benny and he'd come running to Dean, burying his face in his chest as he cried. He remembered the time they'd danced together at a formal, much too drunk to care when Dean grinded just a little too close, jokingly held Benny's waist for a little too long. And he remembered all of the times Benny had made him feel great about himself, putting him up on a pedestal when no one else seemed to, when no one else seemed to actually care about him.

But it was all a lie.

"I hate you," he whispered, meeting Benny's victorious gaze one more time before turning and running back the way he had come. With tears streaming down his face, sobs bursting from his lips, Dean vowed something to himself.

He would never let someone in the way he'd let in Benny. Because no one would ever love him the way he'd loved his best friend.

* * *

And Castiel cried harder than he had before in his entire life.


	12. Desperation

**Author's Note:** "There's more where that came from."

* * *

There was no doubt about it- Sam was an idiot. The valedictorian of his graduating class in high school, the man with a law degree from Stanford, the most successful lawyer at the Winchester firm, was incredibly stupid.

Had he really just compared Castiel- sweet, shy Castiel- to Benny? He knew what an awful time that had been for his older brother, and yet he had still brought it up anyway- to protect him. _Because bringing up something that ruined his fucking life is always a good idea_, Sam thought bitterly, burying his face in his hands.

Since Dean had driven away, he hadn't even made a move to go back inside, and he certainly hadn't tried to go into work. He couldn't imagine being in the house alone, knowing that Dean was out there somewhere, tears streaming down his face as every negative aspect of his past that he'd kept buried away now pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. And there was no possible way Sam would be able to confront his coworkers either with that kind of overwhelming guilt bearing down on him.

So he was left here, sitting on the steps outside of he and Dean's "mansion", occasionally glancing up into the swaying branches of the weeping willow several feet away. As a child, the tree's presence had offered him a sense of comfort, had grounded him. And it still did, but nothing seemed to be able to completely calm him down after what he had just done.

Then, out of the blue, he realized that there was someone who might actually be able to make him feel better.

Hesitantly, he pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his pants and stared down at the lock screen, biting his lip. Should he? Would it be right to just… Before he could change his mind, he quickly typed in his password and searched through his contacts.

With shaking fingers, he pressed the call button and held the phone up to his ear. The ringing sound on the other end as he waited seemed to mock him, hissing its disappointment, laughing at his optimism. As he sat, listening to the unending and obnoxious ringing, he realized that he hadn't even considered the possibility that they may not even answer. It'd make sense, really. It was about time that-

"Hello?"

Sam nearly dropped his phone, choking on his response. He had actually answered. _Chill out, Sam_, he silently begged.

"Uh, hey," he answered weakly, "how's it"- he cleared his throat- "going?"

His pathetic greeting was met with silence. For a few seconds, the line remained quiet, leaving Sam to stare down at his feet as his one leg began to shake. Why had he thought calling Gabriel was a good idea?

"Fine, I guess," Gabe sighed, "I was just about to head into work and see what kind of trouble Cassie has gotten himself into."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. He couldn't imagine Cas doing anything remotely reckless.

"Oh yeah," he snorted, "you might want to go make sure he hasn't burned the whole place to the ground."

Sam expected Gabe to at least attempt to laugh, but it was as if he hadn't even heard him. He didn't reply in any way, which definitely wasn't a good sign.

"Why are you calling me, Sam?" Gabe eventually replied with another heavy sigh.

_Oh God_. Sam felt as if he had been punched in the chest, the defeated way Gabe spoke pulling him apart, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. Of course he would have to ask the one question Sam desperately wanted to avoid.

"I… I fucked up with Dean, " he confessed, his voice cracking as he uttered his brother's name, "and… you were the first person I could think of when I was trying to figure out who I should call to… talk about… _it_."

The other man scoffed, catching Sam off guard. It wasn't really the reaction he'd been expecting.

"What?" he asked, frustration seeping into his tone. After what had just happened with Dean, his patience was practically nonexistent.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. It's just that I'm not all that surprised."

"You had a feeling this would happen?" Sam cried, his voice coming out much more shrill than he'd anticipated, making Gabe laugh even harder.

"Of course, you stupid jackass. You've been worried about his obsession with Cassie so, naturally, you brought up that bastard, Benny, to scare some sense into him," Gabe explained as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

Okay, he was right. But Sam couldn't let him know that or he'd never hear the end of it, that's for sure.

"Whatever," he mumbled, shaking his head, "I'm a pro at bringing up painful shit from Dean's past. Awesome."

"Oh, c'mon, Sammy, that's not what I-"

"Can you come over?" Sam blurted, quickly silencing Gabe. The youngest Winchester's heart pounded in his chest, slamming up against his rib cage with enough force to burst from his chest if it so desired. It wasn't often that Sam suffered from the same kind of "word vomit" that plagued his older brother, but, as usual, his brain decided that _now_ would be the best time to say the worst possible thing he could.

"Sam…" Gabe finally rasped, one simple word laced with enough pain to make Sam flinch, feeling the ache as if it were his own.

"It's alright if you don't want to. I mean, I completely understand. You're busy, I'm busy. You have to go into work, I have to go into work. You're the boss, I'm _a_ boss-"

"Sure."

Sam gaped, his mouth continuing to move without a single word slipping out. He was sure that he looked like a fish out of water, frantically trying to pull in the oxygen he needed, completely unaware that he was no longer submerged in water.

"Wha- Really?" he gasped, sitting up a little straighter.

"Yeah, why not?" Gabe chuckled, "I don't _have_ to go into work with a great guy like Cas working. He can handle the shop on his own, especially on a slow day like this."

Although he should probably protest, insist that the other man go into work, Sam couldn't bring himself to do it. The idea of he and Gabe hanging out like they'd done in the past- way too fucking long ago, for that matter- was absolutely intoxicating.

"Wow, okay," he trilled, excitement slowly working its way into his voice, "see you soon, then?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Gabe sighed, "I'll see you soon."

* * *

Dean continued to cry for another hour, clinging desperately to Castiel, face buried in the younger man's chest. Of course, Cas didn't mind, and, with Ash manning the counter, he would be alright to stay with Dean as long as he needed. And, once he'd heard what Dean had been through, he had started to sob anyway.

There they were, two men sitting together on the cold bathroom floor, cheeks stained with the residual moisture of tears, eyes swollen and red. Cas could only imagine what they looked like to the outside observer, curled up together as they were.

"We should probably get out of here," Cas whispered, pressing his lips softly to the top of Dean's head, "before someone walks in and wonders what the hell happened. I have no idea what I'd say."

Dean chuckled, lazily trailing shaky fingers down the length of the younger man's leg. Cas shivered and shifted, the thought of standing up and leaving behind the comforting warmth of Dean's touch holding no appeal whatsoever.

"I think it would've been pretty funny to watch you try and explain, but whatever," he laughed weakly, continuing to casually stroke Castiel's leg. It was awful having to look into his gorgeous emerald irises, marred by the redness creeping its way steadily closer, quickly replacing the usual white that made the green stand out in such a breathtaking way.

"Yeah, yeah, you're _so _funny. But I'm serious, we should go somewhere else."

"Like where?"

"I don't know," Castiel sighed, entranced by Dean's fingers playing with the fabric of his pants, "I guess we could go back to my dorm, but-"

"That's it!" Dean cried, suddenly sitting up. He hardly looked like the man who'd been crushed against Cas's chest, sobbing uncontrollably, body shaking with the force of his cries. Every ounce of sadness seemed to have left his eyes, and his classic, mischievous smirk- _that fucking smirk_- was back.

"What?" Cas asked hesitantly.

"We'll go back to your dorm! Hang out there tonight!" Dean trilled excitedly, bringing his hands up to cup the younger man's face, "We could watch a movie! Like… some shitty action movie! You know, with a crappy plot but awesome special effects?"

"Dean…"

"Or maybe an old western!" he interjected, his smirk quickly forming into a wide grin, "Those things are fucking perfect! Especially on a day like today."

"Dean, I-"

Without warning, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips firmly to Castiel's, swallowing his response. The younger man's eyes widened, glancing down at Dean's lips as they hungrily moved against his own. It was clearly a kiss fueled by passion and desperation, a last ditch effort to get his way. The bastard knew Cas too well.

As much as he wanted to push Dean away and let him know that this whole "using kissing to get what he wants" thing wouldn't always work, it didn't take long for him to give in and hesitantly kiss back. The world- as it always seemed to- transformed instantly into a warm blanket, banishing every single one of Castiel's worries with the incredible healing power of soft flesh against his lips and calloused hands cupping his face.

Dean crawled into Cas's lap, eagerly pulling himself closer and wrapping his legs around the younger man's waist. The man who always seemed to exude a ridiculous amount of confidence almost appeared to be…_vulnerable_, more vulnerable than he ever had been as he strutted into the coffee shop and leaned against the counter with a mischievous grin on his face.

At that moment, Castiel realized something that almost took his breath away. _This_ was the real Dean Winchester. He wasn't the cocky, wealthy lawyer that always knew just the right thing to say. He wasn't the ladies man, happily welcoming a new woman into his bed every night. And he certainly wasn't the insensitive, vapid jock that Benny must've assumed he was back in high school. No, Dean Winchester was the compassionate and understanding older brother, the boss that every employee respected, and the man that deserved every ounce of love Castiel had to give.

"Dean," Cas managed to mutter as Dean pulled away briefly to draw in a breath.

"Yeah?"

"My dorm, remember?"

Immediately, as if someone had shocked him, Dean leaned back With a wildly excited glint in his eyes, he reached down and grabbed Cas's hand, pulling him to his feet.

"Of fucking course I remember!" he snorted, dragging him towards the door, "It's not like I forget about that when you did that damn thing with your tongue, not at all."

Castiel laughed and shook his head, but he didn't pull his hand away, allowing himself to be whisked away from the bathroom. He felt like he may vomit, overwhelmed by the pure joy flooding his body.

"There's more where that came from," he chuckled as Dean shoved open the front door to the shop, and the cool chill of autumn assaulted their senses.

* * *

Gabe couldn't believe it. He had made a promise to himself, and yet here he was, already going back on it.

Ever since Sam had left him on that awful night three years ago, he'd decided that he would never allow him back into his life the way he had before. There was no way he could possibly handle that kind of suffering again- it would kill him.

But no, he was in his fucking car on the way to the Winchester Mansion. The place where Sam, the only man- and person, for that matter- to ever pull the one-night stand act with him, waited eagerly. Worse yet, the way the youngest Winchester had sounded on the phone led Gabe to believe that his phone call was purely an act of desperation. The son of a bitch didn't know who to call so, of course, he just _had_ to call him.

_You know that you still want him_, his mind insisted sadly, speaking the cold, hard truth he had constantly been denying from the moment he had seen the tall, cheerful man set foot in his coffee shop once again.

He had missed the warmth Sam seemed to give off, the feeling that everything was alright in the world. And who wouldn't? Anyone would miss that kind of sensation if, suddenly, it were no longer a part of their lives.

It was the only justification he could think of, and it was the only thing that would keep him sane if he wished to get through the rest of the day with Sam Winchester by his side.


End file.
